


Chronic Recollection

by Rusted_Crutches



Category: Cafe Cardamari Tales (Webcomic), Splatoon
Genre: Allusions to Suicide, Anxiety, Delusions, Depression, Doctors, Flashbacks, Gen, Hallucinations, Hospital, Mental Health Issues, POV First Person, Please read the disclaimer in the AN of chapter one for more information, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self Isolation, Suicidal Thoughts, Vague/Brief mentions of blood/gore, self blame, self destructive behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-05 11:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rusted_Crutches/pseuds/Rusted_Crutches
Summary: Three months since the horrific accident, Clementine is still in the hospital suffering from injuries that refuse to heal. Obviously, her situation is far from great, and she’s a little more than home sick, but it’s nothing she can’t handle. The worst she has to deal with is crappy food, and rough bandage changes. It’s tolerable. At least that’s how it was for a while… or rather, what she kept telling herself... Shortly after receiving a brand new Diary from her mother, Clementine only becomes sicker, and witnesses herself fall into a downward spiral of despair, hopelessness and self blame—with no hope of climbing back up. Her diary tells all in this brand new short story consisting of all the entries made while she was in the hospital, plus a little more…





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Please note that the following tags “Direct mentions of suicidal thoughts” and “Brief mentions of blood/gore” used above, correlate with very minor/tame instances and events that take place in this fic. There are no explicit depictions of ACTUAL suicide at any point, and the mentions of blood/gore relate to Clementine referring to the state of her injury. Please read at your own discretion. 
> 
> Please also keep the following in mind (a bit of a personal letter from me):
> 
> The following fanfiction you’re about to read has sprouted from a head-canon not only myself, but a few others have had. I wrote this with the most serious of intentions, and in no way make light of the horrific reality of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or Depression. As someone whose mother chronically suffers from both mental illnesses, I understand the seriousness required to speak about such subjects, and how/why people suffer.
> 
> I also took time to do research on both disorders to make sure I knew what I was dealing with. I tell you all this simply as a precaution. I take a few artistic liberties when describing some of Clementines symptoms of PTSD, and may not be a 100% accurate depiction of the disorder. It is not done out of disrespect, or to “dumb down” the illness — it is simply a testament to my immature writing skill. This fic is the first real exposure i’ve ever had to writing more seriously, and I do not have years of experience behind me to properly execute writing techniques that many others do. If you perhaps are under the impression that anything written here is malicious in any way — don’t. Instead, assume the fault my lack of writing skill, or possible lack of foresight, not malicious intentions.
> 
> With all of that out of the way, please enjoy!
> 
> (Also special tanks to @Tropical-splash on tumblr for beta reading for me!

“Honey, Honey?  _ Honey _ .”

Clementine shook her head forcefully pulling her attention away from the bedside window. Her eyes snapped over to her mother, Orenda, who looked back at her worriedly. Her hand was on Clementine’s arm, having shaken her. The teenager blinked rapidly and looked about the room frantic. She lowered her head and sighed when she saw the same room she’d been occupying since her accident.

_ Still here. _

Clementine blinked her eyes a few more times clearing her vision, before looking back up at Orenda 

“Huh?” she asked “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention...” She spoke quietly almost at a whisper, a hint of rasp in her hoarse voice. If her mother were not sitting in a chair directly at her bedside, she most certainly would not have heard it.

“You were spacing out again,” Orenda said gently “are you feeling alright?”

Clementine frowned and looked back to the window and stared at her reflection. Her brow furrowed. She’d been doing that a lot lately. She just couldn’t seem to keep her concentration on anything these days...

“...Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

Clementine didn’t answer, instead focusing on Orenda through the windows reflection. Not daring to look her in the face, she watched her hand move down to her own, and felt a reassuring squeeze. Her mother was worried. Painfully so. Clementine knew even without seeing her face. Her eye’s slowly drifted back to her mother’s, and she had to force herself to look away again. It was all she could do to keep herself from getting teary eyed. If she looked anywhere else, she wouldn’t be able to hold it together.

She didn’t feel like she was going to full out start bawling... but moms have that special way of getting you to release your emotions over things you didn’t notice were bothering you. Like all those times you would come home from school after a bad day. You would manage to make it through school and the subsequent bus ride home, full of people asking if you’re was alright — without even a  _ trace  _ of tears — but the second she’d walk in the door, mother waiting and asking how your day was… there went the water works.

It was quite a nostalgic feeling, really, and  _ normally  _ would have been a welcomed liberation for anybody — but Orenda had done this nearly  _ everyday for the past three months she had been in the hospital. _ The  Amateur therapy sessions  were growing old, and quite frankly, starting to drive Clementine mad. Not to say she didn’t appreciate her mother's concern and care — but she was  _ beyond  _ fed up with daily interrogations. 

Clementine retracted her hand abruptly and sunk back into her hospital bed, eyes snapping back to the roof just outside her window, and remained unresponsive. She  _ wasn’t  _ in the mood to talk. She hoped her mother would get a clue… However, despite common misconception, mother’s cannot, _ in fact, _ read minds. (A  _ shocking  _ revelation, I’m sure).

“How’s your back?”

Clementine cringed.  “Fine.” she rasped.

“What about the nightmares?”

She folded her arms and pouted “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Her mother paused “...You didn’t sound  _ fine  _ over the phone.”

Clementine said nothing, but gave her mother’s reflection a stern glare.

Orenda cocked her head and her expression grew more worried. “From how scared you were I thought something was bothering you. That’s why I came all this way —” she closed her eyes and sighed, shaking her head ”and I  _ don’t  _ mean it like  _ that _ …” she reassured “I’m just  _ worried  _ there’s something you’re not telling me. _ It’s not good to hold it all in _ .” she finished, as she reached for Clementines hand once again.

“I said i’m  _ fine _ .” Clementine insited, snatching it away.

Orenda stared at her shocked offense, almost ready to deliver biting response. She opted instead to sit back in her seat with a defeated sigh. She shook her head. There was absolutely no reason to fight, and she wasn’t going to push any further. They were both stressed at this point.

So they sat there in silence. Clementine desperately avoiding eye contact as her mother simply looked through her — though it felt like she was staring at her. Judging her. Searching for… something. She could practically _feel_ her incriminating eyes crawling all over her skin. Clementine rubbed her arms as if attempting to get warm, trying to subdue the sensation dancing up and down her limbs.

The seconds ticked by. The silence only grew more awkward, and atmosphere uncomfortable. Either of them could barely breath in such thick tension. It was beyond suffocating. Clementine thought they would have to sit there like that for the rest of the visit. She began to sweat, feeling inexplicably anxious all of a sudden. Though, before that seed could grow any larger, her mother,  _ thankfully _ , spoke up.

“I have something here i’ve been meaning to give you.” She said, breaking the tension

Orenda started to move, turning around in her chair and reaching for her purse behind her. Clementine subtly watched the other out of the corner of her eye, anxiety all but melting away, morphing in to modest curiosity. Orenda slowly and delicately unzipped her large tan purse, and began digging through it. 

“You know your father and I both have to go back into work very soon,  _ but  _ our schedules are going to be a lot busier than we initially thought...” 

She now began refilling through it more thorough and deliberately, struggling to find… whatever it was, and after a few more moments seemed to find what she was looking for. However, she was having difficulty pulling it out. She yanked on it roughly as she continued. It almost looked like she was having a tug of war with someone of the other side.

“We won't be able to visit or talk to you as often as we used to, so, I bought you this as a sort of… going away present.” 

With one final two handed yank, she freed it from its prison, holding up the present in triumph. Wrapped in thin brown paper and topped off with a thread bow (the kind you can only get from old timey stores.), was a  _ suspiciously  _ rectangular looking object, nearly as big as Clementine's head.

Her mother handed it off to her quickly. Clementine almost fumbled it, taking two hands to hold properly. The paper crinkled and wrinkled in her hands as she help it. She lifted it up and down in the air as if gauging its weight. She then squeezed it. It was surprisingly thin for what she expected it to be, and was quite heavier, too... Well, only one way to find out for sure.  She slowly and carefully untied the string and pulled away the paper. When all was removed, what lay beneath was a beautiful, cherry red — just as she had expected —  _ book.  _

Not a normal book, however, but a journal. Though the leather cover, partially carved out with a beautiful paisley design, was awfully fancy for something used for everyday writing. The pages were quite extravagant as well — too thick to be average paper — stained pink with golden lines instead of the traditional blue.

Clementine thought it a beautiful (and probably expensive, knowing her mother) gift… but she wasn’t sure what Orenda expected her to do with it. She wasn’t exactly an avid writer — nor a writer at all. She looked back up to her with confusion.

“I know it’s not really your ‘thing’ anymore,” Orenda said, making air quotes “and you don’t really write anything outside school, but… I was thinking maybe you could keep a diary? So you could have something to “talk” to — y’know, while we’re away.”

The other didn’t respond, instead looking back to the book in thought.

“Or y’know,” Orenda said awkwardly “You could write stories — or even draw in it! The Diary thing was... just a suggestion...” She spoke with a hint of uncertainty, as if unsure of her own idea. 

Truthfully Clementine felt the same… but she thought for a moment. Her mother was definitely right, she hadn’t written anything in quite a long time — though she used to love it. Her ‘best’ work was probably something she jotted down when she was five (and she likely hadn’t improved since then…), though that didn’t mean she couldn’t pick it up again. She’d definitely consider it at the very least.  _ Especially  _ if it was an alternative to her mother’s  _ ‘counseling’ _ sessions. Clementine would do anything to get out of those.

Though, this likely could also be some type of ploy by her mother. She won't talk to  _ her _ , so she gives her this  _ book  _ to ‘talk’ to instead. Maybe even using it as a proxy… Clementine shook her head at that. No, for as pushy and overbearing her mom had been recently, she still trusted her. She wasn’t one to invade people’s privacy — even if she genuinely believed the situation called for it. It was one of the many things she respected her mother for.

“No, it’s fine. ...I like the idea,” Clementine said quietly, finally speaking once again.

Orenda perked up a bit “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she nodded “i’ll give it a shot.”

Her mother's shoulders lowered as she visibly relaxed and her cheery smile returned. Clementines answer must have relieved her, but there was still a hint of worry in her brow. She wasn’t really surprised, Orenda had been  _ more  _ than worried the past three months. Having to work extra long to pay for her medical bills she was quite  _ stressed  _ too, but… something seemed a bit  _ off  _ today. It was like she was trying extra hard to hide it — and she very rarely hid her emotions. Though… maybe Clementine was just imagining things...

_ Buzz, Buzz, Buzz _

The two jumped at the sound of her mother's shell phone vibrating in her bag, nearly giving them both heart attacks. Orenda sighed in irritation, before whipping around and digging through her purse to retrieve it, flipping it open when finally found. She quickly read a text message with a furrowed brow. An even more irritated and pained look quickly spread across her face as she slammed the phone closed, shoving it back into her bag.

Work. 

_ Of course. _

Clementine slumped and looked back to the window.

“Honey, i’m  _ so  _ sorry,” she said, standing up to leave “I know I usually stay until visiting hours are over, but the boss is calling me in early, and I  _ can’t  _ blow him off again.” she leaned over her daughter and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I promise i’ll call you tonight before bed.”

Clementine didn’t bother facing her “Alright.”

Her mother turned to leave, but stopped halfway to the door. She stood still for a second before turning back around and walking back over to kneel besides Clementine’s bed. She grabbed her hand one last time, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I know things are hard right now, but I promise everything will get better once we get out of here.”

One more kiss on the head and ‘I love you’, and she was back on her feet and out the door. She had waved good-bye, but Clementine didn’t bother watching her leave. She couldn’t anymore. Once you see that same scene 10,000 times over, it changes from bittersweet to heart wrenching. She almost cried every time she watched her go, and being the last time she’s see her for a while, she would cry more than usual.

Clementine carefully set her new journal to the side and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her with both arms and tentacles. Resting her cheek on her knee, she stared out at the afternoon sun as it began to set. The slowly fading light lit up her hospital room in a wild orange so vibrant it rivaled the color of her tentacles. She’s been desperately wishing to feel those warm rays upon her skin, but this is the closest she would ever get to it for a  _ long  _ time.

_ “Once you get out of here.” _ Her mother’s promise rang in her head.

She turned her head and rested her opposite cheek on her other knee, and looked back over to the journal, as if it had spoke to her. She put a hand on it’s cover, feeling it’s texture before selecting a random spot to open to. She flipped through its pages absentmindedly, a soft, cool breeze emitting from the motion. She did this a few times. Pick a spot,  _ flip flip flip flip,  _ let the book close, do it again. Over, and over, and over.

_ “Once you get out of here.” _

Lord knows when that will be.


	2. Aug. 27th - Sep. 4th

**August 27th 2:50 P.M**

   It’s only been about a week since Mum gave me this journal, but I already feel like i’ve wasted it. She gave it to me in hopes I would use it as a diary, but, I’m not really sure what I would write. I’ve never kept a diary before, and I don’t write all that much to begin with. Quite frankly, i’d say i’m terrible at it.

English is by far my worst subject. I don’t think i’ve so much as gotten higher than a C minus in that class before. My essays and tests always come back with a bunch of correction marks, usually on grammar and punctuation related mistakes, but i’ve made more than my fair share of spelling errors in the past. Honestly I’ve always been one to stay away from writing all together.

Well, I haven’t always... I used to write songs when I was _really_ little, and I enjoyed it a lot — but that was a long time ago. Besides, it’s different. It’s not like writing poems, stories or anything like that. Those take actual effort, and I’ve never even so much as gotten motivation or inspiration to write those kinds of things… It just doesn’t come naturally to me.

Thinking about it, I actually  prefer drawing over writing. I’m about talented as a writer as an artist, but at least I have fun doing it… However, Mum didn’t bring me a sketch pad and brand new row of pencils, she brought me this journal. Doodling on such fancy paper like this would just be a wasteful, especially considering I only have a pen at my disposal. Could have really used a pencil, _Mum_.

Anyway, like I already said, I have _no clue_ how to keep a diary... but I don’t mind giving it a shot. I’ve never been one to bottle up my feelings, and i’m not too shy to so much as write them down, so I don’t really have any reluctance — well, other than my subpar writing abilities. Though, to be _completely_ honest, i’m not 100% sure if i’ll end up fully committing to this or not (I tend to drop new things as fast as I pick them up), but i’ll at least make an effort to keep at it. Who knows, maybe i’ll look back at this one day and be really glad I did.

...Alright, so, I guess first things first is giving a proper introduction...

Well, My name’s Clementine. Clementine Lanark, and i’m your average 15 year old girl. I love music, cartoons, reading comic books, plus the occasional book for school assignments. My favorite color is orange, I love eating crab, and that’s pretty much it. Well, all I can think of for basics anyway…

Oh, wait, i’m also a turf war player! I _can’t_ forget that. I only just started playing last year, but i’ve followed the sport since I was a wee lass. My parents used to be elite players themselves (and charger mains, just like me!). My mum’s actually one of the ones who encouraged me to start my own team, and I ended up forming one the very week I started.

Though we’ve only _officially_ been a team for a while, my teammates and I have been together for quite a few years, going _way_ back to middle school and beyond. We all kinda started out as rivals, back then. Each one of us wanted to be the next league champions, and no one would settle for anything less than _team captain_. We fought and bickered with each other for a little while (man, we were all such stubborn little-ones), but quickly drifted together and became friends… and the rest is history. We’ve been fighting hard together ever since.

Though, we haven’t been playing much as of recently — well, _I_ haven’t at the very least. You can’t exactly play, let alone even go _out_ when you’re stuck in the hospital… Well, I _could_ theoretically I sneak out, but nurse Tweedledee and Tweedledum are already scary as is, and I DON’T need them chasing me down a dark hallway in the middle of the night (even if it _would_ be a good form of exercise). Besides, I couldn’t play in the condition i’m in anyway. Heck, I _just_ started walking again.

...

Anywho… that’s all I really have to say about me. I don’t have much more to talk about, and my lunch will be here soon so i’ll have to wrap up quickly anyway. I’ll make another entry whenever.

 

—

 

**August 31st 2:00 P.M**

   It’s been a few days since my first entry, and I only _just_ remembered this poor book even existed…

After ending my last entry and the nurse handed my lunch off to me, I accidentally dropped this thing on the floor while I was eating, and it landed under my bed. Luckily the cleaning lady came in while I was in physical therapy and found it lying on the floor, and picked it up for me. I probably never would have known it was missing if it wasn’t for her.

I’m actually _real_ lucky she didn’t just throw it away. The staff here have tossed some of my things before (including my favorite hat and phone charger, I swear it’s like they have it out for me...) without asking, and i’m genuinely surprised they didn’t strike again.

Also... I didn’t actually date in time my last entry when I initially wrote it, only deciding to date them _today_ , so I had to make a guess. It could have been last Monday or maybe even two weeks ago, I don’t know. Time passes you by really fast in this place so all the days end up blurred together. Plus I tend to nap a lot so sometimes I wake up around the same time I fell asleep, and it feels like no time passed at all… You can really lose yourself when that happens, so I thought logging my entries might be a good way to keep track of it all.

Anyway, in the time between today and — _whenever the heck my last entry was_ — not too much has happened. ...As in nothing. Nothing _At all_ . It’s really the same old same old in this place. The same exact routine with absolutely _no_ new surprises. It’s almost like the same day repeating over and over and over. Nothing interesting ever happens.

It’s actually kind of weird for a hospital. You’d think at least a few new patients would come in everyday from countless accidents that inevitably happen each and every day, but there’s no one. I mean, it’s not like i’d really _know_ for sure since I have my own reserved room (never have to get stuck with a roommate, woohoo), but I pay attention to the sounds outside my door. I’ve never so much as heard doctors rushing through the hallway, or a bed being wheeled away. Now, this place isn’t really the highest rated hospital in Inkopolis… but it’s not anywhere near run down, either. I don’t know what the deal is. For all I know, Mom forced them to sanction off my wing so i’d be the only one here.

…

Well, while that’d be _pretty_ funny and over the top... now that I think about it, it’s probably just my hearing… It hasn’t exactly been in the best condition since… well, you know what I mean.

Like I was saying, nothing ever happens here and it’s boring as all hell. The most exciting thing that’s happened in the entire time i’ve been here, was one time when my doctor showed up late because he got in a car accident. He was perfectly fine, just a little fender bender, but I tell yah that _really_ got my hopes up. …Uh, I didn’t want him to get hurt or anything... I just though he’d have more of an interesting story to tell during check up. All I ended up getting was a five minute explanation on how insurance works… Honestly, serves me right for wishing bad on someone.

...

God, and I will _never_ get those five minutes back.

 

—

 

**September 1st 2:23 P.M**

   Y’know, even though nothing happened, I still kinda wish I would’ve at least written _something_ in here. Even if just only a little bit, like now. I have so much free time anyway, and this gives me a few minutes in my own little world. A disconnection from… _here_ . ...So I think i’ll take another crack at writing everyday. Afterall, it _was_ my original goal. _I pray this thing doesn’t fall under the bed again before tomorrow..._

Well, here’s to hoping.

 

—

 

**September 3rd 1:50 P.M**

   Okay, y’know what, scratch that. Writing everyday _isn’t_ very realistic — especially for me — so it’s not gonna happen.

Like I said the other day, this place is _boring_ . Everything’s the same, nothing _ever_ changes, and nothing _ever_ happens. Trying to force myself to write when the day gave me absolutely no substance is just a waste of time, and i’m not nearly talented enough to pull inspiration out of thin air. Plus, it just feels wrong. It’s like running a marathon right after skipping breakfast. You’re just running on empty. No good will come of it.

I actually _really_ like writing, so forcing myself would probably just make me hate it in the long run. So i’m not going to. I’d rather be bored a few day’s out of the week than the rest of my time here because I got sick one of my only forms of entertainment.

 

—

 

**September 4th 2:29 P.M**

   Well, speaking of ‘one of my only forms of entertainment’, my other options are nowhere to be found! Like, I know I _literally_ just said I wouldn’t be writing frequently — and I swear this inconsistency isn’t intentional — but I wrote that last entry in a hurry because my _friends_ were _supposed_ to be here _thirty minutes ago_.

We have this thing where they come to see me about every other week (not visiting more frequently because of school and all that). They live about two hours away and have to take a three hour ride to get here, switching trains along the way. Their parents don’t wanna drive them all the way here, and my mom or dad can’t pick them up anymore because bills started to get bad, resulting in them going to work more, and they overall just can’t afford the gas.

 _Anyway_ , making the trains on time is _crucial_ . There’s only _one_ train with a stop anywhere near this area, and it only goes by once every hour. If they miss it the entire visit could end up canceled, and I won’t end up seeing them for an entire month. That happened once about a month or two ago, and I tell yah I _wasn’t_ happy. I gave the guys an earful.

Honestly, as much as i’m _irritated_ and _mad_ at them for (most likely) missing the train due to their own _irresponsibility_ … i’m also actually kind of worried. These guys aren’t a much older than me, and they have to navigate a crowded subway station on their own without any parents. I’m not worried about them getting lost as I am about _Angelo_ getting separated. He wouldn’t speak up or ask for help if he was in trouble, he’s too nervous. He’d just stand there for _hours,_ hoping someone would notice him and ask if he was okay. ...That’s happened on at least _two_ school field trips. He might still be stranded at a campsite two cities over if I hadn’t reminded the teacher to go back for him.

Then _Citron_ and _Jonquil_ are only even _more_ grey ink trails on my head. Those two are always at each other's throats, and at the rare chance they’re not, they’re at _someone else's_ . I mean, Citron’s the one to blow up over literally everything and go and actually fight a person, and Jonquil will only get mad and yell — but still, these two _really_ don’t need to be out and about unsupervised. At least together... Uhg, sometimes they make me feel like an obnoxious worried mother. _Dumb, hormonal teenage boys..._

—Oh, I actually haven’t exactly properly introduced them, have I? _That’s awfully rude of me._ Well, Angelo, Citron, and Jonquil are my turf war team that I briefly mentioned before. They’re also my best friends, as well as Jonquil being my boyfriend.

I haven’t known Angelo for all that long, but we went to middle school together and hung out enough to call each other old friends. He’s an overall shy and quiet lad, but his appearance and play style _drastically_ contrast his demeanor. He’s super tall, almost six foot, and wears an octoling replica mask that hides his eyes, making him look kind of intimidating. It freaks other players out.

He also has a really savage play style, chasing down anyone that enters his line of sight. Once he sees you, there’s no getting away. Honestly, I’d compare him to a feral shark if I didn’t know he were so sweet. He’s a real ‘gentle giant’ type, very caring towards others and small animals. Well, with birds at least. I see him feeding pigeons around the plaza all the time. I think he has a pet parrot, too.

Now, i’ve known Citron a little bit longer than Angelo… but I don’t really know him all that well. He only ever shows up for for every other practice session and league battles, and rarely ever talks to me (whenever he does, it’s _back chat_ ). The guy’s a supper try hard and won't even go _near_ a casual lobby., which, honestly, is probably for the best considering he’d just bully new and inexperienced players for kicks. ...I really don’t like his attitude, but I would be lying if he wasn’t a skilled player, or that I didn’t appreciate having him on the team.

And then there’s Jonquil. I’ve known him the longest. We’ve gone to school together since we were wee little kids, and our _parents_ go even farther back. Both of our families are strongly intertwined, practically tangled, so it was pretty much set in stone that we would end up together. If him and I hadn’t drifted together on our own, i’m sure our parents would have given us a little ‘push’. Not that it really matters, because I like him for him, so i’d be down no matter what. He’s an amazing guy and I couldn’t ask for a better co-captain.

Yep, that’s right, We both run the team! We’re both natural born leaders so we thought it best if we were both leaders. After all, two heads _are_ better than one. I work on battle strategies and training the team, while Jonquil handles the execution and gives valuable feedback to both myself and the rest of the team. He’s a very skilled player himself and has a laid back play-style, but he has a bit of a bad temper and can end up losing his cool, usually at the expense of his focus, though. Out of all of us i’d say he definitely has the most weaknesses... but his unpredictable rage occasionally works to our advantage… _occasionally_.

But all of that’s besides the point. Right now, they aren’t here, and i’m bored out of my mind! The second they get here i’m gonna chew them out. Serves them right for wasting my time. Why I outta start grounding them if i’m going to dote on them like a mother so much, those _jerks!_

...

...Honestly, I just hope they’re all alright...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the second chapter! Since i've already written the full fic, the remaining chapters will be posted one at a time once a week. No specific day, but once a week updated will happen! Check me out on tumblr, i'm user @bup-oh


	3. Sep. 10th - Sep. 20th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note! I have decided to update Chronic recollection twice a week so it can be posted in full quicker! The schedule will be every Tuesday and Friday at an non specific time. This is subject to change, but for now that's the schedule.
> 
> Please enjoy chapter three.

**September 10th 7:59 P.M**

   Well, they were pretty damn late, but my friends managed to make it all safe and sound. I mean, for the  _ most  _ part anyway… Jonquil said he might have hurt his ankle a bit on the train. He had to stand up while riding the train, when it halted suddenly. As he tried to brace himself somehow, his foot moved wrong… and, well, he was limping… just for a little bit, though. It’s nothing serious, no actual injury, and even if it was, it was probably just a minor sprain at most. Though, he got over it pretty quickly. Before he even got to the hospital, in fact. So, it probably wasn’t even that. He walked all the way here just fine, anyway, so it was nothing. Besides, other than that, everyone else was fine.

Oh, on a related note,  _ that’s  _ actually related to the reason why they were late... Turns out some  _ fish for brains  _ left their  _ bike  _ on the train tracks! The train had to stop last second (hurting Jonquils’ ankle) to prevent from running over it and screwing up the wheels, and  _ then  _ had to  _ wait  _ for it to be removed. And, of  _ course,  _ it takes nearly an  _ hour  _ to do so — because hey,  _ public transit is just so wonderful. _ Damn train wasn’t even all the way out of the station yet… useless bunches of ocean waste…

But, I digress. 

...

Y’know… I actually kind of felt bad about what happened with the guys on the train. I was real mad at ‘em for getting here so late, thinking it was their fault when it completely wasn’t. They could’ve got hurt trying to get here — I mean Jonquil  _ did  _ — and the train could have crashed because of that  _ stupid  _ bike! Honestly, if anything like that happened... I would’ve felt awful. They get seriously hurt while i’m here thinking awful things about them… — I mean, I KNOW they’re fine, and I know all these what ifs are silly to think about, but… I dunno, I felt real beat up about it… can’t really get it off my mind even now... 

_... _ Anyway, despite all of that, our bi-weekly visit started off without a hitch. The boys were a little riled up from the mild “accident” (a little too much, if you ask me), but they calmed down quickly enough and our routine went on as usual.

We goofed and messed around for a bit before before sitting down to eat, being almost lunch time. Everyone brought out all their snacks and drinks they snuck in from the vending machines at the station (outside food isn’t allowed), some for me the rest for them, and we all happily chowed down. We watched a little bit of TV, and chatted all the while. The other three talked about school, general things that’ve been happening in their lives, personal and otherwise, and made casual small talk. I just listened really, just occasionally commenting on things here and there. I didn’t really have much to say myself anyway. 'Cuz, y’know. ‘Same old same old’.

Our group conversation eventually separated into two, and I got to talk for Jonquil one on one for a while. It was great, since I don’t have the chance to talk to him as much as we used to… but poor Angelo had to sit and listen to Citron brag about himself for a whole half hour. I could tell how irritated he was behind his mask. I think Jonquil and I both felt sorry for him, but we were a bit distracted (and unwilling) to intervene. So, he was stuck to suffer on his own, and I doubt he appreciated it.

Meanwhile, Jonquil and I made chit chat for a bit, then later I helped him out with some of his homework he had been having a difficult time with. I haven’t had any homework myself for a while, since keeping up with school work while in hospital is difficult, but I still understand enough to help him out from time to time. Plus, he  _ is  _ a grade lower than me, so i’ve done most of this work before. It’s kind of like a special review for me, and I really do enjoy helping him out… though, today, I noticed I was having some difficulties...

Halfway through reviewing his answers (which had gone pretty fast since he’s been getting better at algebra) I started to lose my focus. I kept spacing in and out and just couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t take in or understand anything he was saying, or had written on the page. I  _ really  _ tried to keep my head straight, but it was useless. My brain just wasn’t going to cooperate with me today. I wasn’t really surprised, i’ve been spacing out like that  _ a lot _ lately... but it was still a little annoying having no control over my own concentration… I think Jonquil could tell I was feeling off. He put away his paperwork and assured me he’d try to finish it himself, or get help from a teacher. I’m not so sure he’ll actually follow through with that… but it was obvious I wasn’t going to be of much help, so it wouldn’t really make a difference either way.

He tried to change the subject, likely trying to keep me entertained, but I just… kept losing my concentration. It was just that for a while, vision and mind fading in and out of focus, but then it...  _ changed _ ... It swiftly and abruptly went from just casual spacing out, being able to hear and see and just not registering any of it, to… something  _ completely  _ different. My hearing went muffled, and my vision... didn’t go black as much as  _ reality  _ got  _ pulled  _ away, almost like someone was pulling silk sheets off a bed, but leaving a pitch dark void underneath instead of a mattress. The walls, ceiling, my friends, everything disappeared in an instant. I was completely alone… The only thing traveled with me being my bed, and the muffled voices of my friends far off in the distance.

I didn’t know what was happening — I  _ still  _ don’t know what happened... I couldn’t move, see, hear, or even  _ breathe _ . The only thing I could feel was an overwhelming sense of  _ panic  _ and  _ fear _ . It was almost like nothing I’ve  _ ever  _ felt before. It felt like a hard punch to the gut times ten. It weighed down on top of me like a ton of bricks. It was crushing. I was so painful and overwhelming, I almost wanted to  _ vomit _ . I even tried to bring my hand to my mouth in reflex but I was still molded in place. I tried  _ so  _ hard to move, but all I could muster was uncontrollable trembling from a rising mixture of cold and fear. My panic and adrenaline climbed higher and higher as I struggled to breathe, and the dark void around me somehow got darker and darker. I was  _ terrified _ . I thought I would be stuck like that until I suffocated. I was convinced I was going to  _ die _ .

But, then

I blinked

and I was back in the hospital room… 

Like it was all just a bad dream...

It’s all bit…  _ fuzzy _ ... from that point... but I remember waking up  _ really  _ sweaty and out of breath. I was quite disorientated, but I think Jonquil repeatedly asked me “what’s wrong” over and over while I was coming back from it, and told me Citron and Angelo went off  to get the nurse. I was still quite shook up for a while afterwards, but I managed to calm down eventually. I certainly wasn’t ‘okay’ after something like that… but I felt like I could breathe. I was just so…  _ relieved _ . It was like waking up from a nightmare. You still feel scared, anxious, but somehow, also safe...

I have no idea what happened… what any of it was. I thought maybe I fainted… but I dunno. It didn’t feel like I went  _ unconscious _ . It was not like anything I’ve ever experienced before. Well, actually, it was kind of familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it. I guess the closest thing I could compare it to would be recalling a memory — but more like teleporting back to the memory... I don’t know, none of it makes sense to me. I’m doing much better  _ now _ , but i’m still really freaked out by it. I guess more confused and unsure than anything. Honestly… I wish I could forget about the whole thing, but my mind’s been racing since the guys went home. It keep replaying in my mind  _ over  _ and  _ over _ . I can’t sleep, i’m afraid i’ll have another  _ terrible  _ nightmare. 

I thought writing it down would help me feel better, but it doesn’t seem to have helped much… Even so, I can’t stay awake forever. I’ll try and get some shut eye... Maybe i’ll get lucky and won't have any bad dreams.... Hopefully I’ll feel better in the morning.

 

—

 

**September 12th 12:48 A.M**

   ...I couldn’t fall asleep last night — or, rather the night  _ before  _ last (I dunno, I never understood the whole day changing over at midnight thing…) — and i’m having trouble even now. I’m a little tired and my back’s a little ache-y, which is probably from my physical therapy, but I  _ am  _ feeling a bit better. I think i’ve finally calmed down over yesterday’s — day  _ before  _ yesterday’s — ... _ incident _ . Looking back, I still have no idea what could have caused _ that _ or why it was so intense, but I do suspect that I just fainted and had a nightmare. Thinking about it i’m not really all that surprised. I didn’t get more than  _ maybe  _ a few hours sleep the day before they came, so I was probably a  _ little  _ tired. 

Y’know… having such a bad night then, plus being up the past two nights, i’m probably going through my monthly or so bout of insomnia again… so,  _ that’s  _ fun. Not like i’m not used to it, though. It’s been happening ever since I got here... but it’s not  _ that  _ bad. I typically don’t suffer the usual side effects, exhaustion, headaches, anything like that. And only have it for a few days before my sleep schedule manages to fix itself. 

Staying up for several nights in a row is irritating and, quite frankly, really boring, but i’m actually quite thankful it doesn’t affect me worse. If it did, my doctor would probably give me big ol’ sleeping pills — and I  _ hate  _ taking that kind of medicine… But, i’d be lying if I said I were never  _ tempted  _ to ask for some. I  _ can  _ handle the straight stream of consciousness  _ most  _ of the time, but I  _ do  _ eventual start feeling a little… ‘coo-coo’ when it goes on for too long. Something in my brain… snaps... and I don’t feel right. At that point, i’ll do anything to get just an hours worth of rest to reset my clock.  _ Seriously _ , one time I was up for a solid 5 days straight, and I was considering smacking my head against the window to knock myself out. (I  _ know  _ it’s a horrible plan, and I  **didn’t do it** … but it was a solid idea in my sleep deprived brain.)

...I think i’m fine for now… but if i’m awake longer than a week, i’ll suck it up and talk to my doctor about it. Though, I really hope it doesn’t come to that...

 

—

 

**September 14th 2:29 A.M**

   I’ve been writing in this journal about every other night to distract myself and put myself at ease, but now that I think about it, it might actually be doing more harm than good. I wasn’t able to look it up (real crappy phone/internet service out here where the hospital is) but I  _ think  _ remember one of the ways to help treat insomnia is by fixing/introducing consistent sleeping habits. Like going to bed and waking up at the same time everyday, not doing certain things before bed like being on a phone or watching TV, and certainly not staying up several hours past curfew to write in a book.

…

I’m not gonna  _ stop _ , (I don’t think it’ll be an automatic cure, and writing in itself isn’t the problem, just staying up too late) but it’s not exactly helping out with my sleep schedule here. It probably isn’t helping with my sight or posture either… You see, I can’t keep the light on to write since i’m supposed to be asleep at this time, (curfew) so I have to use my phone screen on its dimmest setting as a light source. ‘Course that still doesn’t help me see much in the dark, so then i’m sitting at this really weird angle, hunching over trying to read what I wrote and see the tip of my pen — you get the picture. I’m getting more blind and crippled by the day.

Seriously though... my back is  _ really  _ starting to kill me… This probably won't be good for me in the long run.

 

—

 

**September 15th 12:00 A.M**

   Today’s been a rough one. Well, more like the  _ entire  _ week, but you get the point...

My back has been hurting off and on like crazy — all day today! I felt a little ache-y the previous night, so I just thought it was from hunching over to write, but the pain is full force now… It almost feels like the level of pain I had for the first few weeks I got here. It’s almost unbearable. It’s more distracting and inconvenient than the insomnia, but i’m not sure what to do. I already tried to tell my doctor about my insomnia, since it’s almost been a week already, but he didn’t  _ believe  _ me and just dismissed it all together... I  _ tried  _ to tell him how tired and exhausted I was, but he wouldn’t budge. I don’t know what his deal is… why he thinks i’m a liar (i’ve never lied to him) why he doesn’t want to help me. And now I’m afraid to tell him about my back. I’m afraid he’s just gonna dismiss me again, or get mad at me. I could call my mum about it to get her to deal with it, but I don’t get reception on my phone... I would have to use the hospital’s line, so they’d know… Besides, i’m not sure Mum  _ or  _ Dad would have time to come all the way out here. They’ve been so busy...

…I’ll just put up with it until Mum’s next visit. She should come by soon enough, she did promise she would at least stop by once a month. I can handle the pain until then... but i’m not so sure how long I can deal without sleeping. It’s been a week already and i’m starting to feel sluggish. I’m having a hard time concentrating, nothing seems to hold my attention. No TV, phone… I can’t even keep my focus on writing… my mind keeps wandering away. I wish I could just find something to distract me from how much my back hurts and how heavy my arms, legs — even tentacles — feel.

God, I just wanna go to sleep.

 

—

 

**September 17th 4:35 A.M**

As this seemingly endless bout of sleepless nights continue, my pain gets worse and my energy less. Truthfully, i’ve been feeling like this for the past few  _ days _ . I managed to power through it for the most part... but, I guess today it all just boiled over. 

My pain was gone for most of today, not returning until it was time to go to bed, but I was still  _ absolutely exhausted _ . I could barely get up to go to the loo. I ended up having to cancel PT because I nearly bonked my head on the door frame while on my way there. The nurses tried to insist that I still go, and wanted to wheel me down to the room in a wheelchair, but I  _ really  _ wasn’t feeling it. It’s probably for the better anyway, it’d likely make my back hurt worse.

...I’m moving so sluggishly, can barely stand, and _ almost injured myself.  _ You’d think  _ maybe  _ the doc would see that i’m not faking it, and am  _ very  _ much suffering — but no, not even that convinces him. I’m so moody now too. I hate this. My arms are so heavy and move so incredibly slow. I can’t tell if i’m genuinely moving that slowly or it it’s from the slow mo effect my eyes have permanently been set to. It’s making me nauseous.

I hope my doctor and nurses will see the light soon and  _ actually  _ do  _ something  _ before it gets any worse than it already is. I can’t take it. I swear, sometimes it seems like they want me to suffer.

 

—

  
  


**September 20th 5:59 A.M**

   It’s finally gotten to the point where these sleepless nights are actually  _ driving  _ me  _ crazy _ . I’m moody. Every little sniffle from the nurses pissed me off, I wanted to yell at them for practically  _ no  _ reason. I’m paranoid. Every little noise in my room I think there’s a rat, and sometimes I almost feel one  _ crawling  _ all over my legs. I’m seeing things. In every corner of the room in my peripheral I swear I see someone  _ standing  _ there, and sometimes I swear it’s moving closer… It’s  _ freaking  _ me out! I still couldn’t sleep if I was currently able. Not with  _ it  _ standing there…

But the worst part of all of it? I feel like i’m _dreaming_. Like i’m just stuck in a _vivid_ nightmare and none of it is real — but i’m still somehow _awake_ and experiencing all of it in _reality_. My mind doesn’t feel right and I can _feel_ — I _know_ —something isn’t right... It’s gotten to the point where i’m seeing… god I don’t even know what to call them… _flurries_ in the air? Ahg! That’s not it... It’s like… it reminds me of something when I was little… I dunno if anyone else has ever experienced this or maybe anything similar, honestly i’ve never _thought_ to ask anyone else about it… but... when I was _really_ young, like maybe between 4 and 10 years old, I would see bright… shapes… patterns in the ceiling in my bedroom. They weren't anything sensical at first, just wiggling lines moving in between the groves of the uneven popcorn ceiling, disappearing and reappearing at random. Now they remind me of visual volts of electricity (in both glowy color and movement.) Sometimes there would be many and sometimes a few, but they always vanished within seconds of each other.

Then when they got tired of the disappearing and reappearing act, they would begin  _ morphing  _ into the little dots poking out of the ceiling. They’d be 3D, and I could almost reach out and touch them. They would all be in one spot for a second, collecting the surrounding dots in a circle, like a magnet, before quickly moving about elsewhere. The balls of static light would morph into different shapes and become more defined. They became distinguished pictures I could control. Cartoon character’s I recognized, my family, random objects. Anything my mind would dictate it to become. Then within an instant it could all disappear and start all over again, or never come back.

Anyway I got a little rambly… but all that’s what i’ve been seeing, except in the air instead of on the ceiling. I used to love it as a kid, it was a form of entertainment before I went to bed (almost like a movie). It was kind of a big part of my early childhood, and it makes me nostalgic… but now it’s unpleasant. I’ve never experienced it like  _ this _ . I can’t… ‘turn it off’. It's all over my vision. When my eyes are open, when they’re closed. They’re like worms in my eyes. When I look at the wall, window, or ceiling. It never goes away. I’m worried there’s something wrong with my vision. I’m worried if these things are actually there. I’m worried that they’re real. I can feel them writhing all over me. I can’t swat them away. They’re making such horrid sounds.

  
_ It’s driving me  _ **_crazy_ ** _. _


	4. Sep. 23rd - Oct. 8th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter four everyone! I hope you all have been enjoying this so far, because we only have a few more chapters to go!

**September 23rd 2:19 P.M**

   My Mum came by the hospital sometime a few days ago and had a talk with the doctor — and I tell you, it wasn’t  _ nearly  _ soon enough... I was awake for about  _ two weeks  _ straight, and I was  _ really  _ starting to lose my mind. I honestly don’t know how much more I could take of the doctor and nurses constantly insisting I was “fine”, before I would have ended up throwing a bedpan at one of their giant inflated heads! Would I have gotten yelled at for it and possibly cause grievous bodily harm? Yes, but it would have been  _ totally  _ worth it (and now i’m kind of regretting I didn’t).

So, as I was saying, Mum had a talk with the doctor, and she scheduled a last second appointment with him. I should have figured the doctor would only listen to  _ another adult  _ before he’d listen to some dumb  _ kid _ . She managed to convince the  _ thorn in my side _ I really wasn’t okay, and he proceeded to prescribe me some temporary sleep medicine. Something called Hydroxyzine. Supposedly it doesn’t have any nasty side effects or any addictive qualities, buuuut i’m doubtful. I’m still taking it like i’m supposed to, but i’m not gonna celebrate prematurely. There’s always a chance it’ll just stop working, or it turns out i’m allergic to it or something...

Anyway, i’m glad Mum got things all settled, but I feel like she wasn’t treating it all that seriously... She was real fired up when I told her about everything when she first got here, but when it came down to talking to him, she was completely calm and didn’t call him out on anything…! It isn’t really that big a deal… but I feel like she should have given him more flack than what he got… I guess  maybe she decided to just let it go last minute.

Whatever.

Anyway, I was given the sleeping medicine that night, and it worked decently enough. I was actually able to fall asleep and felt rested when I woke up (though I was still pretty tired throughout the day). It has to have been the best night's sleep i’ve gotten in a  _ long  _ time — well, the past two weeks, at the very least. The wonder of medical drugs, huh? …Well, I wish I could say everything is all well and good now, but… While i’m no longer suffering from insomnia, I now know  _ why  _ I  _ was  _ for the past two weeks…

You see, along with the insomnia, I occasionally have random bouts of horrid nightmares that follow short after. Sometimes I unknowingly “sense” that they’re coming and that’s usually when the insomnia hits… but sometimes I can’t, and they end up hitting me out of nowhere like a freight train... I’ve been dealing with this since I first entered the hospital. The very first night I had one so terrible I woke up sweating and wouldn’t talk to the staff until my mom arrived later that day. Luckily I no longer remember what it was… though i’ve had  _ other  _ dreams that were similar. I don’t  _ really  _ think the nightmares and insomnia are connected, and it’s probably just coincidence — at least I hope… But every time i’ve rid myself of my insomnia, I’ve been tortured by many  _ horrible  _ nightmares the following nights… They’re  kind that scare you so bad you dread falling back asleep. The kind that send you searching for your parents bedroom in the ominous darkness, looking for comfort.

Many of the nightmares are different, and vary in surrounding and intensity, but they all  _ terrify  _ me the same. 

...

...However, i’ve notice the last couple nights i’ve had the same number of  _ recurring  _ dreams. Most of the nightmares involve me being chased down by something in different places. Sometimes they’d be places I know, and others I don’t. In one scenario i’m in my childhood home, being hunted by an invisible force I cannot see. In the next, i’m back at the hospital, running down the long dark hallways alone, with an evil nurse following in pursuit behind me. And… as for the  _ other  _ dreams… I’d rather not talk about them… they were really unpleasant. Quite honestly, It makes me sick to even think about them...

I can’t say i’m surprised by these dreams, their frequency, or even their slow escalation. Like I said, i’ve been dealing with them since I got here, and I’ve bared with them before. Besides, I’ve always had trouble adjusting to new surroundings since I was a child, and my fears manifest themselves in the form of weird (but mostly) chilling nightmares. As much as they don’t aid me in sleep, i’m honestly just happy to be getting  _ any  _ rest at all. That last bout of insomnia had to have been the worse I ever had to deal with... I may be seeing unpleasant things in my dreams... but at least I know i’m asleep, and that’s all they are. 

_ Just dreams _ .

 

—

 

**September 26th 6:16 P.M**

   I had my monthly check up today, and it was an unusually big one, too. It took about  _ three  _ whole hours total. Admittedly, it’s not the longest appointment i’ve had, but it’s definitely up there — especially as the most  _ boring _ ... It started out with the usual. We headed down a couple floors to the proper exam rooms, had a nurse take a look at me, and get some blood work done while we were there. The check up themselves are awfully boring, but I always feel a little adventurous getting to take the elevator and getting to get up and walk for a change. In truth I know it  _ isn’t  _ very exciting (at least, i’m sure most people think so)... but I rarely get to leave my room if ever, so it’s nice to get out when I can. I treasure every moment out of that room I can get.

Of course, as with all my monthly check ups, my mum was there for it. I’m sure she wasn’t happy, having to come back to the hospital so soon and on such short notice — but we can’t get on with any of the procedures without her presence, or consent. I don’t think she was mad at  _ me  _ so much as at my  _ doctor _ , who “forgot” to tell her about my appointment  _ while  _ she was here  _ last  _ time, but she was noticeably irritated throughout the day… I just hope, at least deep down, she was happy to see me again so soon. At least as much as I was to see her...

Throughout the check up, which was mostly just waiting for the doctor to return after leaving, we were both  _ well  _ beyond bored. We swear they were making us wait forever on purpose. Just a little way to get back at her for confronting the doc a few days ago. Mum was probably just joking, poking fun at our situation, but i’m pretty much convinced that’s the case. I’ve had longer appointments, but  _ never  _ had such long waiting times. Either way, I don’t know how she managed to hide her anger/boredom so easily, and pull off such a convincing “this is fine” smile at the same time. Probably years of practice i’d imagine. Maybe with Dad, pfft...

Anyhow…  For the most part, the meeting with the doc was absolutely fine. He updated Mum on stuff and I just kinda sat there silently unless I was called on. We had met with a couple specialists we’d been waiting for weeks to hear back from, as well as some other nurses, throughout the day. We didn’t see too much of him, the other guys being the main focus of today's visit, but my actual doctor was the one to end off the appointment with a summary and requesting signatures from Mum and all that. It was all well and fine and I was ready for it to be over, but after it ended, there was another…  _ incident,  _ when we got back to my room...

Mum and one of the nurses was helping me get back into bed (I was exhausted walking all the way back from the elevator), and the other nurse was helping with the sheets and blankets. I remember trying to get settled on my bum, when all of a sudden… I  _ spaced out _ ... like back in September... Though, it was a little bit different from last time…

Everything went black and I couldn’t move or breathe, then there was the impending dread and fear along with it… but there was something  _ new…  _ While the prominent darkness was still there, this time, I saw a  _ flash  _ of light along with it. It was quick. If I had any capacity to blink at the time, I probably would have missed it. I didn’t actually get a direct look at it as it came from directly behind me. I only knew it even happened because I saw parts of the blackness in front of me reflect some of the light and cast of my own shadow — and a small glimpse of it in my blind spot. It was just… so  _ incredibly  _ bright. The whole hallucination was just the darkness and then the quick flashing light, so it only lasted a couple seconds — it only  _ felt  _ like a few seconds, anyway. ...I’m actually surprised by that. The last time I was stuck like that it lasted for…  _ forever _ . ...Still, the feeling of absolute dread and fear didn’t leave me for nearly and hour, and even now I still feel both of them faintly at the back of my mind.

When I came out of it, the first thing I saw was Mum. She looked real worried, painfully so. She was in my face with both her hands on my arms, and was squeezing me tightly (so much so that they’ll probably bruise). I guess she had been trying to shake me out of it the entire time I was in that place, panicking when I didn’t respond to her voice immediately. The nurses were still there too. One was right behind her trying to pull her away from me (unsuccessfully), holding her back by the waist. The other was right next to me checking my head, heart rate and pulse frantically, but I didn’t really pay attention to that. All I could focus on was Mum. I felt a little guilty about making her worry. She looked visibly shaken and on the verge of crying. I’m not sure how... being in the “void”... looks like to outsiders, but I can only imagine it’s as scary as being an insider.

Honestly, I don’t  _ even  _ remember this part, but after everything calmed down, Mum later told me one of the nurses with us accidentally dropped a metal bed pan, and  _ that’s  _ when I suddenly froze. She thought maybe the noise spooked me for some reason... I think it was just a coincidence… after all, the last time this happened was random as well, but that is  _ weird _ . It still kind of hurts to think about. every time I do I get that intense fear and dread again... But I can’t shake the overwhelming feeling of  _ familiarity  _ it had. You would think that’s related to my  _ other  _ experience… but i’m not so sure that what it’s alluding to. The memory felt more  _ distant  _ than that…

I don’t really know... and I don’t really wanna dwell on it any longer. I’m just glad it was done and over with so quickly. Though, the fact this is the second time this type of thing has happened has me worried… I don’t look forward to — whatever it is — being a common occurrence. Lord knows I don’t need anything else repeating in my life.

 

—

 

**October 1st 1:18**

   You know, I was so distracted yesterday, I  _ completely  _ forgot to write about Mum's visit the other day! Well, it was pretty ordinary, so I suppose that’s probably why… Any HOW. I told her I had been using this journal for a little while, and I think that made her pretty happy. Her face just absolutely lit up. I could  _ tell  _ she wanted to pry, probably ask to take a peek at what i’ve used it for, but she bit her tongue and respected my privacy. I appreciate it, and i’m glad that it’s made her happy. She’s always been overjoyed to find out either dad or myself  _ actually  _ use the gifts she gets for us. She doesn’t really have the  _ best  _ intuition when it comes to gift giving, so it’s pretty much a 50/50 whether or not Christmas and Birthday presents will be good or not.

The news was quite a pick-me-up for her mood, but I could tell something was still bothering her. Though she would quickly hide it, throughout the day I noticed she was sad-faced, sometimes on the verge of tears. I didn’t even bother  _ trying  _ to ask her about it. It’s useless, she always deflects… But that doesn’t make me feel any less guilty for staying quiet. Heh, wouldn’t be much point in that either, really. I already know what’s bothering her. Both her and Dad have tried their best to hide it from me, but I can still tell…

It’s probably a number of things really… The medical bills, long hours at work, not seeing me as often anymore… arguing with each other… the list goes on. We’re not as well off as we used to be, so we’re having quite a bit of money troubles. They must be so stressed stressed out, dealing with it all and then keeping it to themselves. I wish I could talk to them about some of it, maybe try something to help them feel better… but I understand why they try to keep it quiet. We know a few families who are pretty open about their financial, and overall general, struggles with their children… and those kids are just about stressed as the parents — if not more. Constantly pressured by struggles they have absolutely no control over or say in.

… I guess being in the hospital saves me from it all. I don’t have to watch the pile of bills and other never ending payment papers grow higher and higher by the day, crowding the dining room table. Once a place for family gathering, now only a ticking time bomb… I don’t have to stay up late waiting for my parents to come home, happy to see them, only to be scolded for staying up so long. As they scamper off to bed, the whispered promises of “in the morning, tomorrow, this weekend” falling on deaf ears, those promises having  _ already  _ been broken. Most of all I don’t have to watch them fight. See the stress of it all wear down them both to the point of snapping at each other so viciously they rival bull sharks. Turning two of the kindest and loving people into absolute savages.

I don’t see any of it. They think I don’t know, but I do. They try their best to hide it, but it’s not enough. I try my best not to think about it, so I don’t stress myself out (that’s why Mum and Dad are trying to hide it, after all) but I can’t help it. The longer I stay here the more it costs us. Every second not spent getting well is another penny stolen from us. I’m starting to wonder if i’ll ever leave — and how much that will cost us. I want to go home so badly. See Mum and Dad every day again, put an end to all this stress and misery, cease the dept from raising any higher, make things  _ right _ . If I could just get better… but my body refuses…

…

I don’t know what i’m saying. This is all so silly. It’s not really my fault. I can’t help what happened. ...Or maybe I  _ could  _ have… but it doesn’t really matter when all things are said and done, does it? … I must just be more homesick than usual… that’s all... 

I’m sorry. I’ll try and be less of a downer next time.

 

—

 

**October 5th 3:20 P.M**

   I’ve said it before, but i’ll say it again... I absolutely  _ hate  _ it here. The nurses, the doctors, they’re all horrible. My doctor never takes me seriously, always thinks i'm lying, and never helps me. The two main nurses on my floor are the worst of the worst. Nurse Reed Gara and Sue Gingly — or as I like to call them, Tweedledee and Tweedledum.  They just have the worst bedside manor, and absolutely  _ no  _ patience. They treat me like absolute garbage, are so rough with my bandages, painfully seesawing my back with the fabric, and bossing and pushing me around all the time! It feels like they’re always out to get me…

I remember not too long ago, back when I had just started to walk again, the two  _ still  _ forced me to stay in bed all day —  _ despite  _ being better. If I so much as even twitch my left pinky toe, they would yell at me to stay in bed. They act like I was getting up to run away when all I did was stretch! The only time I ever got to get out of this  _ stupid  _ bed was getting to PT and the bathroom. Even then they would heavily monitor me, make sure I wouldn’t try and book it out of here. But where else do the think I could  _ go _ ? It’s not like the hospital is heavily monitored, and  _ literally  _ everyone would notice a small child in a hospital gown feeling from her room. I swear, sometimes they act like I would flush myself down the toilet given the chance!

Honestly… that’s still how it still is, even now. They still don’t trust me — and believe me, the feeling is  _ mutual _ . I’m never allowed to leave my room unless i’m going to the therapist. I can’t even stand in the hall under supervision, or crack the window for some fresh air (I remember that incident got me in a lot of trouble). All I want is to feel the sun on my skin again, breathe more than this infected hospital air, be  _ somewhere  _ else besides this shitty room… but i’m trapped I feel like a prisoner — actually, no, even worse than that.  _ Prisoners  _ are still allowed to go outside, and even socialize. I don’t get those luxuries anymore. Honestly, i’d give anything to be able to leave this place… but at this rate, I don’t think that’s ever gonna happen…

...I just wish I could be anywhere else…

 

—

 

**October 6th 4:30 P.M**

   I swear one of the nurses give me a dirty look today — Gara. She also took away my TV privileges and made me go to bed super early that night. She was particularly grumpy throughout the day earlier, too. She’s never been in such a mood, even on the worst of days. She  _ must  _ have read my diary somehow. She probably wasn’t too happy about what I wrote, thus her sour mood. Must have slipped it out from under my pillow while I was sleeping, and snuck it back in later. ...It’s not a permanent solution, but I have found a way to hide this thing, and hopefully keep it out of her hands. I’ve started sleeping with it with me, not just under my pillow. I’ll either lay on my stomach with it directly underneath, or on my back and clutching it in my arms. I kinda prefer laying on my back so I just have it in my arms while I sleep, but it’s more exposed that way, and I have a harder time falling asleep in that position. It hasn’t really done much to soothe my anxiety, either...

every time I see feet pass by the door through the crack at the bottom, i’m worried it’s the nurse, and it wakes me up out of a dead sleep. It really spooks me. ...What will I even do if she comes in here? What if she tires to take my diary away. What if she yells at me for still being awake and takes it anyway? That’s all that ran through my head the entire night. I almost couldn’t sleep. I passed out eventually and woke up with the book tightly in my arms, but I can’t shake the feeling she got to it again. How do I know she didn’t? I was asleep, there’s no way I can know for sure. The thought of it is driving me crazy. What do I do? How do I know? I feel like I can’t talk myself down from these irrational thoughts no matter what I do. I  _ feel  _ like it’s wrong, but I can’t shake the gut feeling that i’m right. I can’t possibly risk it. 

 

—

 

**October 8th 1:16 P.M**

   God… I’ve just been a mess all week, haven’t I. Looking back at my other entries I can help but feel a little lost. I don’t understand my feelings, and I feel like I can’t control them either. All self restraint just went out the window at some point. One minute i’m inexplicably sad, and the next i’m irrationally angry. I have this anxiety I can’t get rid of, and it’s taking over my mind to the point where I don’t feel like myself anymore ...I don’t know why. I don’t have a reason. Not a single one I can blame for anything. I’m not tired, i’m not hungry, i’m not grumpy, i’m just _ … I don’t know… _

Do I need a reason? Why does it matter? Why can’t the answer “I don’t know.” ever be good enough? Why does everyone assume it’s a lie? **_Why can’t people just accept it and leave me alone?!_** _It’s the_ ** _truth_** _._

_ It’s the  _ **_truth_ ** _ , _

_...I  _ **_promise_ ** _... _

 

_ — _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Reminder that updates are Tuesdays and Fridays each week :)


	5. Oct. 9th - Oct. 20th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and chapter six both ended up being suuuuper long compared to all the others surrounding it, so apologize/you're welcome in advanced!

**October 9th 8:59 P.M**

   My friends will be here sometime tomorrow afternoon and... i’m a little nervous. Okay, more like  _ really  _ nervous. I don’t know why, but I just... have this  _ intense  _ feeling of anxiety deep down in my gut that I can’t get rid of. I feel like i’m going to throw up... I feel like something  _ bad  _ is going to happen. I just can’t shake the feeling of this impending doom coming straight for me, and I can’t do anything about it… Well, I guess all I can  _ really  _ do is try my best to get some rest, and just hope i’ll feel better by morning. If it’s going to bother me all night, i’d prefer to deal with it in my dreams...

...I’m just so worried… I hope things go well tomorrow.

 

—

 

**October 11th 6:37 A.M**

   Yesterday was horrible. Absolutely horrible. I wish it never even happened. It was horrible just like I thought it would be. I knew something bad was going to happen, and I couldn't stop it… I was right but I didn’t listen to myself. I wish I would have done something. I  _ had  _ thought about canceling the visit last second, but I chickened out and couldn’t go through with it. I didn’t want to inconvenience them… but In hindsight I wish I just would have done it anyway. Now i’m stuck kicking myself for being so  _ stupid _ , and wishing I had some way to turn back the clock and make everything right… If I could that, then maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of today. I’m still so worked up.... My blood is still pumping hard from the all adrenaline, and i’m trying my best not to cry. I can barely hold this pen to write… i’m not really sure if I can get all of it out, but… I can’t hold it in. I  _ need  _ to get it out somehow…

...

Jonquil, Angelo and Citron all came by for their usual visit. It was 2 o'clock sharp. First time they ever made it precisely on time, the train must have been early. They were all so happy to see me... but I can’t say I felt the same. ...And I guess they could tell, judging by the intense change in expression on their faces as they took their seats. I wanted to apologies, but I  _ really  _ wasn’t in the mood to talk. I didn’t have the  _ energy  _ (I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep that night…) All they really got out of me the entire visit was a quiet “hello”, and I doubt anyone other than Jonquil herd it. Honestly, I doubt he  _ even  _ did. He didn’t really greet me back…

In response to my silence, everyone remained quiet as well. I’m sure they had lots and lots to say and  _ so  _ much to talk about... but I couldn’t force myself to make one coherent thought, let alone force it out of my brain and past my mouth, or listen to someone else's…

They seemed to realize I wasn’t all there, and didn’t force me to make conversation... but they still could have talked to  _ each other _ … I hope they were doing it out of respect for me, and weren’t suffocated by my depressive atmosphere… and they weren't bored the entire time. Though, I really doubt it… All we did the whole visit was just sitting and watching TV together. In silence.

Well... the guys watched some TV at least... I really couldn’t focus on it. To be honest, I was so zoned out, I don’t even remember the  _ volume  _ being on… Though, everyone else watched on with no complaints — well, none about the  _ volume _ , anyway… I don’t think Jonquil much appreciated the show choice, and i’m not sure I did either… (I really don’t remember it), and quickly pulled his homework out to escape, rescuing Angelo simultaneously by asking him for assistance. I’m glad he didn’t even  _ consider  _ asking me, I  _ definitely  _ wouldn’t have been much help… I hope Angelo was at least a half as good study buddy.

Unsuccessful with the TV, I tried to focus on their quiet conversation for  _ some  _ background noise at least… but to no avail. It wasn’t that I couldn't concentrate on it… it’s just something  _ else  _ was pulling my focus. I felt like... someone was  _ watching  _ me… Somewhere, there were eyes intently on me. I could practically feel them  _ crawling  _ on my skin. It made me shiver uncomfortably, and I had to pull up my covers as if I were cold, and while pulling up the blanket over me, Citron caught my eye. He was sitting in the corner of the room just below the TV… glaring at me. He looked irritated. Honestly, it was kind of hard to miss… When he first walked into my room, back slouched, shoulders stiff, and hat lowered, I thought maybe something random was bugging him… but now that he was giving me the side eye, I wasn’t so sure… But, despite the uncomfortable staring, I tried my best to ignore him for a while. If something about me was bothering Citron, I didn’t want to confront him about it. I wasn’t in the mood. I’d rather avoid him for the rest of the day if I could.

Ignoring him  _ did  _ work... for a bit... As far as I was concerned, as long as I couldn’t see him, he wasn’t even in the room. Though, he must have  _ really  _ wanted my attention… as he then went through more effort to let me  _ know  _ he was there. He started coughing, sniffing every few seconds. Any minor noise he could make with his mouth and nose, he did. Quite  _ loudly  _ too. When that didn’t work, he started tapping his foot of the floor impatiently, letting it get louder and louder every few taps. He was getting harder and harder to ignore now. Hell, even Jonquil and Angelo noticed what he was doing at this point, but I still tried to pretend I didn’t notice.

Luckily, I didn’t have to ever acknowledge him, Jonquil took care of that for me. One “what’s your deal” later, and Citron all but stopped. No more foot taping, fake sniffling, or even coughing… but then he started  _ staring _ .  _ Directly  _ at me. It made me real anxious and sweaty, and I felt the intensity of the eyes crawling on me. They crawled and crawled faster and faster, and just before I couldn’t take it anymore — the dread and fear arrived... followed by the darkness.

Like always, I couldn’t move. I was isolated from the outside world. I could no longer see… but I could still feel Citrons  _ stare  _ on me. The feeling of them… those eyes on my skin... even through the impenetrable darkness I knew he could see me, even if he wasn’t there with me.Though, I only felt his stare for a few moments before it faded away. Then shortly after, I saw the flash of light from before. It was just like last time. Being paralyzed, I couldn’t look at it directly, and only saw the bright reflection off the void in front of me. However… this time, it was like it played in slow motion… repeating itself over and over, and on the very last repeat, the flash of light was followed by a muffled sound. I couldn’t make out what it was… or where it came from. It was all around me, every side every angle. It came  _ closer  _ and  _ closer  _ until I could  _ feel  _ the earth _ quake  _ from its  _ immense  _ volume. I became frightened, terrified of what was going to happen as it got closer or when it  _ finally  _ reached me. I couldn’t  _ possibly imagine what was making such a horrifying sound.  _ When It finally arrived just behind me I braced myself, ready for impact — or  _ whatever  _ was going to happen and—

Then,

I blinked.

And I was back in the hospital room surrounded by my friends, with Citron  _ still  _ staring directly at me.

I shook my head and blinked rapidly to clear my vision as I scanned everyone in the room. I noticed Angelo and Jonquil were glancing back and forth between me, and Citron nervously. I looked back over to him and he stared back at me expectantly, like he was waiting some sort of answer. Did he… had he said something to me? I couldn’t recall… I still felt the cold chill from being in the void, and I was still a little disoriented from coming out of it. The room was just starting to cease it’s spinning. Everyone was staring at me, and the fear that had rooted itself in the pit of my stomach combined together and created the most intense nausea I have ever felt. It was so overwhelming. I couldn’t focus. I wanted to throw up. I almost  _ did _ . 

Fighting back the urge to lose the big breakfast I had that morning, I did my best to reply to Citron, asking him to repeat himself. He stalled for a moment, hesitant. He glanced back at Angelo and Jonquil a few times almost looking for reassurance, but they only gave him blank looks in return. After that it took him a couple moments to finally spit it out. Honestly, I wish he had just chickened out, and let it go...

“When are you coming back to turf war?”

…

I honestly didn’t know how to respond. I don’t think the question even  _ registered  _ in my brain for a few seconds. Perhaps it was shock, perhaps I was still out of it from the void, but I just…  _ froze _ . I couldn’t answer. The room became deafeningly quiet. They all looked on at me expecting an answer, but I had none. What was I supposed to do? What  _ could  _ I say…?  _ Nothing _ . There was nothing I  _ could  _ say — even if I were able... I just sat there, and didn’t say anything, looking down at the bed sheets in my crumpled fists. I couldn’t even pull myself together to even  _ try  _ and dismiss it, maybe move on… I just sat there and kept thinking and thinking. The question echoed through my mind endlessly, tormenting me. Several minutes went by like this. We all sat in complete silence before anyone dared to speak again... It was Citron who finally broke it. I wish he wouldn’t have…

He tried to repeat himself once again—but he didn’t even get the chance to finish. The moment he started talking again I just…  _ lost it _ . I remember suddenly getting really angry. Like an  _ inappropriate  _ level of angry… Border lining on  _ seething  _ rage… It blinded me. I shouted at him. Shouted that I didn’t know. I yelled horrible, horrible things at him. Yelled horrible things at  _ all  _ of them…Though, I honestly don’t remember  _ exactly  _ what I said, I know for  _ sure  _ it wasn’t nice (and would probably get me grounded, too).

Soon, I lost all control of myself. I escalated from just screaming, to kicking and flailing my limbs as I yelled at him. I threw off my all my bedding and blankets (I imagine to chase after Citron in my fury) and grabbed anything I could and started throwing things around. I almost managed to hit Citron with a bedpan, but Jonquil intercepted my throw and it hit the wall, the metal resonating on impact.

That made Citron flee from the room with haste, while Jonquil tried to calm me down. I think Angelo went for a nurse, but i’m not really sure, he just disappeared sometime after Citron… Jonquil tried to assure me things were fine, telling me to calm down, get a hold of myself, etc… but eventually he abandoned just trying to soothe me with words and went to hold me down, which turned up to be a bad move... As he grabbed one of my arms… 

I…

I slapped him…

...

_ Hard _ . 

It wasn’t even an accidental hit from the flailing.... He grabbed my arm, I looked at him,  _ dead  _ in the eye, and made the  _ conscious  _ choice to slap him. The second I heard the deafening  _ whack  _ of skin against skin, I snapped back to reality. I don’t know why... I don’t know what was going through my mind. I felt  _ awful. _ I stopped flailing and raging and started bawling instantly. What I did to Citron, what I did to Jonquil and Angelo, the guilt hit my stomach like a punch to the gut. 

Through poorly attempted, garbled and nonsensical apologies, I finally threw up from the overwhelming and intense emotions that flooded me. I felt guilt, shame, and fear. At the same time, anger, resentment, and spite. It made me feel all the more worse. I had no reason for my actions or feelings, I had no reason to do what I had done… I threw a metal object at Citron, scared Angelo, and then slapped my boyfriend in the face…

...When Angelo returned with the nurse shortly after, she rushed everyone away and forced them to go home before I got a chance to properly apologize. I felt sick about it for the rest of the say ...Though maybe that would be for the best. I wouldn’t be able to explain myself. I don’t know how I possibly could. The only way to fix this would be to take it all back. Rewind time and keep it from ever happening. But I can’t… What’s done is done and now I have to live with it…

...God, what is wrong with me? I don’t feel like myself anymore… I just want to rewind time and go back to normal.

 

—

 

**October 12th 6:59 A.M**

   Despite my extended period of crying and resulting headache, I didn’t get much sleep last night. That day just keeps running through my mind on a loop… I keep trying to play scenarios differently, see how I possibly could have fixed them, or kept them from happening all together… but it’s all pointless. I can’t take any of it back, and the guilt of that fact weighs down on me harder and harder every time I think about it. I can’t escape it. Believe me, I tried.

I tried to close my eyes and fall asleep… forget it all… but every time I did… my eyes got glued shut, and I was back in that endless void… with that blinding light and deafening noise. It played endlessly. The sound getting louder and louder, closer and closer until it was practically  _ right  _ behind me. Only then, and only then, is when I could open my eyes and escape. At the peak of my terror.

It happened several times, and it  _ terrified  _ me. It made me feel trapped and helpless. I was so scared I didn’t even want to blink… and for a few minutes I only winked one eye at a time, trying to avoid the action all together. I tried to force myself to keep my eyes open by distracting myself with TV, and having staring contests with my reflection in the window, even looking for pictures in the ceiling. It calmed me a bit, and did indeed keep my mind wondering for a little while… but it always fell back to the visit. Back to when everything went wrong and everything got even worse. Back to Citron’s  _ question. _

“When are you coming back to turf war?”   
  
It rang in my mind constantly. Still does. Thinking about it still stings every time… but it is something I needed to think about. In any other circumstance, Citrons question would have been very insensitive. I’m still in pretty bad shape, and… truthfully, I probably won't be able to leave the hospital any time soon — probably not even within the next 3  _ months _ . I’ll be out of here before next year  _ if  _ i’m lucky.

...but... 

Citron doesn’t know that… none of my friends do. I don’t think even any of my extended family does… My family and I have been keeping my health status and big updates under wraps for a while. We don’t want there to be any more panic than there was when I was first emitted to the hospital… and it keeps the  _ unwanted  _ visitors away.

… I guess i’ve never really talked about why i’m in the hospital... have I? I suppose now would be as good time as any, if just for clarity's sake. ...Though, i’d be lying if I said i’m not a little hesitant… I’ve been so conditioned to hide it the past couple months, I kinda feel like i’m going behind someone's back here… Honestly I’m just afraid that stupid nurse will come back and read it one day.  _ Nosy nancy _ …

Well, in any case... I really don’t want to get into too much detail about the accident itself… So, I guess to make a long story short...  I was in an accident about 3 - 4 months ago. It was… pretty bad, from what I remember, anyway. My back suffered from serious burns. The entire first two layers of my skin were completely singed off, and some shrapnel ended up embedded in me. It resulted in some minor nerve damage that left me bedridden for a month or two. When I was first taken here I actually had to go into emergency surgery.  _ Twice _ . I was also  in quite some pain for a long time (and off and on as of recently…). It felt like my back was constantly on fire, and my skin was slowly being  _ peeled  _ off like an orange peel. It was absolute  _ hell _ … but I had no choice but to suffer through it, since i’m too young to take hardcore pain medication...

The best I could do to escape the pain was to sleep throughout the day as much as possible. Though, even then I still felt the intense, agonizing pain in my dreams… sometimes it was even amplified… However, worse than the pain was having to  _ work  _ through it. The doctor made me go to physical therapy as soon as I was able, and no matter how much pain I was in, the forced me into at  _ least  _ a five minute workout every other day. It was absolutely unbearable and I hated every minute of it… but it did pay off in the end. I had lost my ability to walk after the accident, and my legs atrophied from being in bed too long. The therapy helped me get back up on my feet in record time — and now it helps me  _ stay  _ on my feet.

Though… my good fortune didn’t last very long…

While I was recovering very well  _ physically _ , I wasn’t doing the same  _ internally _ . … if that makes any sense… Sure, my nerves repaired themselves for the most part, and the pain slowly went away, I could finally walk again… but my  _ skin  _ wasn’t healing over properly, and now i’m always at a huge risk for infection. The wound refuses to scab over, and the edges of it wind up becoming gross, festering chunks of dead skin, riddled with possible infectents. The nurses have to scrub it all off my back every other week to make sure I don’t get gangrene or flesh-eating disease. Honestly though… i’d risk death by horrible infection, rather than having to deal with such a  _ painful  _ procedure. I’d even take back the days of laying in bed in pain all day…  _ anything  _ is better than this.

...But I digress.

We haven’t told friends or extended family about any of this. It’s not right I know, but... when my doctor initially told both my family and I, I was getting better, we went off told  _ everyone  _ we knew right away. We got a little over zealous and got both ours and others hopes up with unfounded speculations about when I would finally be ready TO leave the hospital, and how well I was actually doing. ...It came back to bite us. Hard. ...Merely days after giving everyone the good news, things took a turn for the worst. I got sick from a viral infection that spread through my still open, unhealed wound. I narrowly SURVIVEd. It was awful...

After a few weeks I got better, and they told us how I wasn’t properly healing, that I would be at high risk for even more infections if they didn’t medicate me and keep me in the hospital for that procedure… Lady luck turning back around and spitting in our face was a real blow to our ambitions. We didn’t have the heart, nor strength, to deliver the news to everyone we had already told about my success. We feared it would only come back and blow up in our faces again. ...Really, It’s amazing how quickly hope can turn into despair…

Anyway… Not being brave enough to face family and friends with the news, we just stayed silent. As long as no one asked questions, we gave no answers. When people finally did start asking… we told them a bit of a white lie. We said the doctor wanted to keep me a while longer for physical therapy. Everyone thinks i’m just staying in the hospital for ease of access to my therapist… I honestly don’t know how they all bought it, or how none of them are suspicious, but i’m just glad no one’s pushed the subject — well, besides… you know...

Citron asking me what he did kind of worries me. Our white lie might have just got blown out of the water, and now they’re suspect of our deceit. After all, I  _ did  _ answer him honestly… I  _ really  _ don’t know if i’ll  _ ever  _ be able to get back into turf war… With how long i’ve been here and how much longer i’ll possibly be, and not being sure I even  _ want  _ to after everything that’s happened, i’m really conflicted...  _ If  _ I somehow make it out of all this, and  _ actually  _ heal enough to play… will I even have that drive anymore? Or will I be too scared to… I really don’t know.

I don’t think I ever will.

 

—

 

**October 15th 12:48 P.M**

   I’ve been thinking it over the past few days and... I think i’m going to disband the team. I really  _ really  _ don’t want to… but I feel like it’s the right decision to make…

Jonquil, Angelo and Citron all refuse to play without me. Back when I first got hurt, the second they found out i’d be stuck here for more than a few weeks, they vowed they wouldn’t play until I got better. I honestly didn’t expect them to stick to it… hell, I wouldn’t have been able to. I thought they were just saying it to make me feel better… but looking at their play history online, they’ve been inactive that entire time i’ve been in the hospital.

I appreciate the sentiment, really, but there’s no way i’ll be playing any time soon. I don’t want to keep them from the sport they love, and I don’t want them to miss the upcoming competitive season. They need every chance they can to make it big, and abstaining for months on end, slowly losing their acquired skills, isn’t helping. They’re good players, and I know it. I’ve trained each and every one of them and they’ve all improved so much since the first time we met. I always knew they could make it to the top, and admittedly, I thought I would be with them… but knowing i’ve helped them on the road to success is all I need. Every victory  _ they  _ get will be a victory to  _ me _ .

That’s all I need.

 

—

 

**October 16th 2:54 P.M**

   I was reading over yesterday's entry, and it brought back some memories I haven’t thought about in a long time… quite a _few_ actually... Though what came back to me most vividly was back when Jonquil, Angelo, Citron and I all met. Back when Jonquil and I first started dating.

We had a pretty long honeymoon phase as far as most couples go. We spent a whole lot of time together back then — well, a lot more _ than usual _ . We were so obsessed with each other, we often ignored important responsibilities in favor of hanging out or going on dates. We were  _ always  _ going on dates... spending every second of our waking moments together... I don’t think there was a day during those first two months of our relationship where we were separated more than five minutes. Our Mum’s always used to say we were conjoined at the hip when we were little… though with how often we were together, I think we took that saying a little too literally growing up…

Anyway… that was pretty much our relationship before we finally escaped that first initial phase. Thinking back, I don’t really understand how we did that… I mean, we love each other, but you can only see a person so much before you run out of things to say, or want a break. God, we didn’t play turf war for two whole months! How did we  _ even  _ manage that? Thinking back at it drives me crazy. I can’t believe how stupid I was. Putting off training to spend that much time together… especially considering how much we love the sport. Honestly, I groan at my past self for being surprised at the end result... It was pretty obvious how skipping practice was going to turn out.

When we finally headed back into turf war, our very first turf war match we were of course, a  _ little  _ more than rusty. Neither of us could aim very well, and we  _ clearly  _ had forgotten some important skills to keep us alive and in the game. I was having a particularly difficult time snapping my shots, in many cases forgetting I had to. I think most of the few kills I got during our first few games were completely on accident (I bet they were mostly on the occasional noob, too). Meanwhile, Jonquil was having trouble carrying his splattling more than a few feet before having to put it down, not used to carrying it anymore. His speed suffered greatly, as did his kill/death ratio. He was dying a lot more frequently than he used to… Probably from how slow he moved now.

Needless to say, It was frustrating the first few days back, but I managed to get back into the swing of things soon enough. It  _ wasn’t  _ very easy. I had to train twice as hard and long as I previously did... but I think the whole thing was harder on Jonquil than it was on me... He found himself in a rut for a while, and his scores and rank suffered from it. He was losing nearly every match in solo, and the few games he  _ actually  _ won he hadn’t even performed very well in…. Every time he died or failed to kill someone during a match, he’d beat himself up about it for the remainder of the day. When he lost, he’d get so mad and blame himself — even when he managed to stay above worst objective stats on the team. Playing made him so angry sometimes, I swear he was gonna break his splattling from throwing it down so hard. (Luckily, the only thing he ever  _ almost  _ broke was his foot…)

After an entire day of losing, Jonquil would often go to the shooting range behind Ammo Knights to blow off some steam. He’d be there for a few hours at  _ least _ , though, it didn’t really help achieve his intended goal… more often than not it made him  _ more  _ angry.  _ That’s  _ when he would blow up in rage. He tried to keep himself calm during a game for the most part and not be a poor sport during. He didn’t ever really blow up on enemies or teammates... However, that wasn’t always the case… There’s been a few times he’s been a little too bossy to his teammates and gotten a little too upset at an opposing team, but nothing compares to the times we met Angelo. I remember that day pretty well.

Jonquil and I were battling together. We were trying to get him some more cash for some  _ much  _ needed ability re-rolls. We were winning about 50% of our matches, which was a lot more than the usual 5% for him. We had been on a winning streak the past 5 games, and it was now down to our final match. 

Flounder heights, 4 P.M, great team comp, connections are perfect, and two of the greatest players in the lobby were on our side. I had my trusty splat charger, and Jonquil was trying out the new splattling deco. The match starts and we’re all off. I quickly find a place to perch myself and get 2 quick picks off the bat, as he and another teammate stay back to paint the base and build up special to get more aggressive later. Jonquil finally gets his kraken, and rushes into the enemy base far as he can, trigger finger on the special button, read to pop out and save himself any second—

And he’s dead.

30 seconds into the match.

I didn’t see it, it being out of my line of sight... but I knew the second he died when suddenly he’s booyahing like crazy and re-spawns. He’s a little irritated, having died hardly into the beginning of the match, but he cools himself by staying back to build up another kraken, and brushes it off. Then, again, he goes in. Same plan, same exact path…  _ and dies again _ .

This proceeds to happen several times until the match ends.

Now, I have no idea  _ what  _ or  _ who  _ was killing him so much (I was perched on the same spot for the entire thing… cheap, I know ), but he ended up with a 1:12 ratio on the results. We did end up winning despite that, but Jonquil still wasn’t happy. He was  _ beyond  _ pissed that, apparently, the same guy killed him the entire match, and he followed the guy out of the lobby — which of course is the poor unsuspecting Angelo.

Jonquil immediately started yelling at him when he caught up — and I mean he was going  _ all out _ . Every swear word in the book was being pulled out, some in English, some in  Portuguese ... all the insults known to man were being thrown down — he even started  _ creating  _ some new ones on the spot! He ranted and raved at him like that for a solid 5 minutes before even  _ pausing  _ to take a  _ breath _ , sounding like an absolute madman. In all that time, Angelo didn’t  _ once  _ show  _ any  _ signs of reacting. He just stood there stone faced, staring back at Jonquil, not doing or saying anything — until Jonquil finally takes his moment to calm down. As he stops to breathe, and await Angelo's’ response, all the other man does is, sigh, pull his hands out of his hoodie, and offers Jonquil a hug.

Jonquil accepted it and started bawling.

Honestly... I really don’t know why he cried that day. Maybe it was the frustration or something else, but he damn near ruined Angelo’s pull over with all his tears. In the end, i’m glad that interaction happened, it seemed like he  _ really  _ needed it. It must have really helped him too, because the next day, Jonquil was back to his old self, and playing hard and well like I knew he could. Then, two days after we met him, we saw Angelo in another battle — and Jonquil got his revenge. Then, I guess the rest is history...

We met Citron much the same way. It was during a particularly hot day, and close to the upcoming competitive season, but we were playing matches despite the heat. Angelo, Jonquil and I were all there, and it was one of the final games of the day (though it was only 2 P.M). This time though, we were on Mahi-Mahi resort. It’s a great place to take a dip if you’re anything other than an inkling, but the special pool is excellent for some nice and cool turf war matches.

Since we were all on the same team, we all decided to take it easy and not play too hard, instead taking time enjoy the cool air blowing off the water. Our other teammate and enemy team seemed to have the same idea — all except  _ one _ .

_ Citron _ .

While everyone else in the lobby was passively turfing and enjoying the cool air on a hot summer day,  _ this guy  _ thought he’d rack up some kills. I’ll admit, he did get me once or twice with some cheeky moves, despite Mahi being a chargers paradise, but I didn’t let him get to me and just went somewhere he couldn’t reach me with his gun (or his cheap kraken) to snipe. Meanwhile Angelo just went around avoiding him as best he could. However… Jonquil couldn’t do the same. I don’t know why, maybe it was the summer heat, or maybe it was because Citron managed to kill him once or thrice, but Jonquil made it his mission to give him hell for the rest of the match.

So they fought it out. Purposely seeking each other to destroy in battle, blissfully unaware of everyone else — who were all just  _ trying  _ to  _ relax _ . It was honestly quite ridiculous, but things got pretty heated between them. I guess maybe Citron squid-bagged Jonquil — or maybe got stuck in ink and it  _ looked  _ like squid-bagging — so when the match ended, Jonquil insisted we play a few more to give him another chance to kick his ass. He was all good to keep playing with his new boyfriend, but Angelo and I refused to stick around in the hellish heat any longer, so we left.

Angelo and I went to our respective houses to get under some air conditioning and avoid overheating, so I don’t know what happened in the last few matches between them… Though, I guess whatever it was sparked a rivalry between the two. They were heated enemies for a few months, battling it out whenever they could —  _ wherever  _ they could, too. Citron got so dedicated he  _ switched  _ schools to be closer to Jonquil! They took every incident during the school year to bite back at each other over something that happened on the battlefield, and fought frequently… but things  _ did  _ slowly simmer down over time.

As they both matured, the two became less and less aggressive towards each other, and eventually accepted one another as a friend — well, as best they could, anyway. The two still don’t like each other that much, though their spite for each other is nowhere near the beginning of their relationship. Heck, Jonquil even swallowed his pride and invited Citron onto the team (though Angelo and I weren't the biggest fans of his either) ...and he’s played on our team ever since… and while I don’t really like his attitude, he’s a great battler and i’m glad he’s on the team.

…

That was all a few years ago, but it’s all still fresh in my mind… It’s memories like this that make me forget i’m even in the hospital. The thought of happier times takes me away from all my pain and I can have a small dose of happiness once in a while. It’s memories like this that are gonna make me miss the team the most… It’s gonna hurt me a lot to break the news, but it’s probably gonna hurt  _ them  _ even more. I’m the official registered leader of our team, so all final decisions are made by me. There’s nothing they can do to stop this. Nothing can prevent this… Not even Jonquil as co-captain.

I know they might be upset at me, and i’m prepared for that… well, as prepared as I can be… but I hope they accept my decision nonetheless. Not being teammates won’t make us any less friends. Things won’t suddenly change between us, and we’ll still be together, no matter what. Nothing can be said or done that will break any of us apart, even something like this. We’ll be friends to the end.

…

…

…

_...Right... _ ?

 

—

 

**October 20th 4:44 P.M**

   They won’t be here for a few more day’s still, but i’m still nervous about their upcoming visit. I’m absolutely sick with worry. I’m so scared how they’ll react to the news. How they’ll accept it, if at all. All these what ifs of what could happen keep running through my brain. I can’t focus, I can’t eat, I can’t even  _ write  _ properly anymore. Even in sleep these unpleasant fantasies and daydreams haunt me. My anxiety is absolutely through the roof. It makes me feel physically  _ sick _ . I know none of this will quell until I get this done and over with… but i’m not sure I can last that long... Every other minute feels like a panic attack, and i’m so afraid i’ll end back up in that void room…. What if it happens again, and I never come out? I’ll never have been able to tell them the truth, and i’ll just disappear and abandon them all.

…

...I had been considering calling them to come over early… but i’m not sure I could make it through  _ one  _ phone call —  _ if  _ it even connects. I can’t guarantee they would all come either. If all of them can’t make it, it would be pointless. …No, I couldn’t possibly do that. I need to tell them all together. All at once, respectfully. I know I have to do it… I’ve already made up my mind… but it doesn’t make me any less scared. I hate the unknown. I hate not knowing what’s going to happen. Not seeing into the future drives me crazy. All I can do is obsessively create more and more what if scenarios that, more often than not, make me feel worse than better.

I can’t think straight.

I can’t do this.

I’m not ready.

I’m not ready.

I’m not ready.

 

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so with only two more chapters left, I wanted to go ahead and pimp my tumblr a little more. For now, you can find me as the user @bup-oh / at the link https://bup-oh.tumblr.com/ . However, I will be changing my URL to some form of my AO3 user name after the rest of Chronic Recollection is posted. I'd love it if you'd follow me there if you're interested in more BUP/CCT Stuff! It's a fandom specific blog, so I post head-canons and art all the time! I also love interacting with other fans, and keep my DM's and ask box open for anyone who wants to talk.
> 
> Thank's again for reading!


	6. Nov. 7th - Nov. 27th

**November 7th 7:01 P.M**

   ...It’s been an awfully long,  _ long  _ while, hasn’t it? ...I’m sorry for neglecting you so much these past couple of weeks or so… but I haven’t really been in much of a mood to write… Honestly, I haven’t really been in the mood for much of  _ anything  _ lately. I’m so  _ exhausted _ . I don’t even feel like  _ breathing  _ right now… I’m just so tired. Tired from all my crying. Tired from all these sleepless nights. Tired from  _ everything _ . ...Sometimes I wish I could just sleep day away. Sleep  _ forever  _ away. …Then I wouldn’t have to feel tired. I wouldn’t have to feel  _ anything _ . I would be in a constant state of unconsciousness, and wouldn’t have to deal with any part of reality. ...Yeah… That’s the dream all right…

But anyway...

A lot has happened since I last wrote you (a little  _ too  _ much if you ask me…) and none of it good. I’d say these past two weeks have been the worst of my  _ entire  _ life. I think I cried more in that time frame than I ever have throughout my whole existence… As a matter a fact, I think I cried so much I went and made myself dehydrated, I gave myself countless, unbearable head and belly aches, I don’t think even the most powerful of pain medicine could aid. I’ve had so much heartache… I feel like my heart’s been ripped to shreds... I wouldn’t be surprised if I develop heart problems at an early age because of it… That’s a thing, right?

…

...This is all... besides the point…

...

The reason i’ve finally picked you up and started writing again, is because I can’t hold it in any longer. From everything that’s happened, i’ve used up all of my energy crying and wallowing in my own unhappiness. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care if it makes me feel worse or better, I just need it  _ out _ . If I hold it back any longer I just might throw up. This is the only place I can put this information. I have no one to talk to, and this this the only place I can vent any of it...

So… 

I went ahead and disbanded the team. It was about three weeks ago... It was hard. It was really,  _ really  _ hard. I was having second thoughts and second guessing myself a whole bunch a few hours before the guys got here even got here... I kept having to give myself pep talks, convincing myself to stay calm, and  _ not  _ cancel last minute — or wait to tell them until  _ next  _ time… That last one was certainly an appealing thought… but i’ve never been one to procrastinate, and deep down, I knew if I held it off, I would just  _ keep  _ putting it off… Next time, next time, next time… that’s all that would run through my head every single visit. I couldn’t deal with that. It would drive me  _ crazy _ . I  _ knew  _ I had to commit...

So, I sat there in my bed, three hours before they would arrive, building my courage. I was constantly telling myself everything would be fine. That it would all work out in the end, and nothing bad would come of it. ...Telling myself all these lies just for the sake of not blubbering like a child when I broke the news. ...And... I guess it  _ did  _ work. I managed to hold it together as I told them… for the most part anyway… My nose ran and my eyes watered, of course, I couldn’t stop that... And my voice was shaky and mouth incredibly dry... but I got through it… though it was about as easy as walking through a minefield

...They… didn’t take it very well—well, actually, that’s a  _ bit  _ of a lie.  _ Jonquil  _ and  _ Angelo  _ took it a lot better than I expected them to, at the very least... I honestly thought Jonquil might have been mad or angry, considering I had made the decision without consulting him… Being co-captain, he had every right to be… but he wasn’t. Sad and disappointed I bet... but he wasn’t mad. It was the same with Angelo, too. I thought maybe he’d be really sad about it… but he didn’t really react. They both just accepted my decision for what it was… I don’t know how they  _ truly  _ felt about it… if they were really being honest or just putting up a front. Either way, i’m glad that’s what they at least showed outwardly, and didn’t give me any grief.

... _ Citron _ , on the other hand…

I was... kind of surprised he came back after the incident last month… I had been kind of worried he wouldn't show up at all. Ever again. I was afraid that he was either mad at, or scared of me because of what happened… but, he was there... “luckily”... I’m not sure if had forgiven me me or not. Forgotten about the whole thing, just let it go, what have you… but I was glad he was there. I wanted to deliver the news to everyone in person.  _ Equally,  _ on the same terms. I didn’t want to play a game of telephone with Angelo or Jonquil just to get the word out to Citron, too… Besides, if they were the ones to tell him, they’d have to deal with what _ I _ did…

Though, I guess with what happened with Jonquil, it probably would have been the same...

When I first broke the news to everyone… Citron… didn’t really react at first. I don’t think it even registered in his brain… He just sat there, in corner of the room under the TV, arms crossed, not saying anything… almost looking dumbfounded... doing nothing. At first, I thought maybe he just didn’t  _ care _ . Out of the three of them, I suspected he would have been the least — if not,  _ not at all _ — upset over the teams’ disbandment…

When he initially joined our team, it was out of pressure more than his own decision. He was more of a lone wolf type of player… always trying to carry, perform the best out of everyone on the team, rather than fight for an actually victory. And that was fine for him. Win or loss he felt accomplished if he at least performed the best. He played great on his own. He felt like he didn’t  _ need  _ teammates — let alone ones he didn’t really get along with… He had a real promising solo career ahead of him… joining the team never  _ really  _ made sense for him… He always kind of viewed it as a chore...

That’s why his reaction was so...  _ jarring  _ to me… In all honesty, in the back of my mind… I kind of expected him to be  _ happy  _ over the team ending… It would be a positive for him. He’d get to play again after 4-5 months of absence, and he could really get his solo career back on track. He wouldn’t be held back anymore. He’d be free to do what he wanted again…!  But… it seems I was wrong.  _ Very  _ wrong... He  _ wasn’t  _ happy. In  _ any  _ slight variation of the word… he was the opposite. Mad, angry, furious, enraged… I could go on… but at this point, i’m just stalling.

...For lack of a better description, Citron  _ defiantly protested  _ my decision. He said I had no right to make that choice without them. I had no right to just drop this on them out of nowhere. I had no right to  _ silence  _ them. ...He went on and on ranting, not letting me get a word in inch-wise… I wanted to tell him… explain to him my reasoning. That it was for the best… that I had no other choice, but he wasn’t listening. His ranting quickly turned to yelling. Complaining and insulting turned from being aimed at no one in particular, to right at me… He said some mean things. Things I hope he really didn’t believe. Things he just said in the moment. Things he didn’t know what he was even saying… but i’ll never know…

Jonquil... didn’t really appreciate any of it, and quickly stepped in.

I’m sure his first intentions were non-violent enough... He approached Citron calmly, was probably just trying to calm him down. But he wasn’t in the mood to be talked down to. He wasn’t going to dismiss it so easily. He still had a lot to say, and damn if anyone was going to keep him from speaking his mind. Certainly not Jonquil. Not anybody… Then, a scuffle quickly broke out between them. Citron told Jonquil to back off, shoved him away, he shoved back…. It went on like that... eventually a slap and then a punch were thrown… It quickly escalated from there. They really went at it... Hitting and kicking each other, shoving and getting shoved into a wall, all before Jonquil finally tackled Citron and it turned into an all out brawl.

I know i’m not describing it very well, but you have to know, while they were fighting, i’m screaming at them to stop, stuck in bed due to my back pain,  _ helpless  _ to do anything. I was scared and panicking, not really focusing on the event thinking I was going t have o retell it later. ...Besides… I don’t really like thinking about it in too much detail. Makes me… really anxious for some reason. So, I don’t really care to describe it any more than I have to… Anyway, while they were fighting, and I was screaming, Angelo desperately tried to separate them. Keep them from killing each other… Which was all in vein, as Jonquil had the upper hand, and was a lot stronger than the other two boys. Thus, Angelo’s attempts only ended with his a nose full of elbow, and quite a horrible nose bleed.

After that, Angelo ran off to get a nurse (both for help, and his nose bleed, presumably). Shortly after, Citon managed to escaped Jonquil (despite his best efforts) and made a break for it, running out the room and down the hall. Jonquil didn’t bother chasing him… but maybe he should have… Citron never got caught so he never got in trouble�— but Jonquil was let off scot free too, so I guess things happen for a reason… However, he probably got in trouble one way or another... Everyone's parents got a phone call, and they all had to go home early by order of my doctor…

...And, even after  _ all that _ , the nurses didn’t bother to call  _ my  _ parents, or even make sure I was  _ okay _ . I was left alone to cry in my room without any comfort. I really needed a shoulder to cry on them… but the nurses didn’t so much as check up on me. The doctor didn’t even care. Nobody did. They all left in a puddle of my own tears to drown… Can’t say i’m really surprised though… they hate me here. They’ve always treated me like garbage and a burden… there’s no changing that. They don’t even see me as a person anymore… no,  _ more like they never did. _

...

Citron probably feels the same way about me, too… He probably hates me… He hasn’t contacted or been seen by Jonquil and Angelo since then, and I doubt he’ll ever return to the hospital to see me ever again. Maybe he’s already tried to come, and they just won’t let him in… I don’t know. I shouldn’t care... I don’t. I don’t care. I don’t have the  _ energy  _ to care anymore… I wish I could feel that way about everything. Never worried or anxious… about anything ever… just be free from it all.

...

…There’s more that happened those few weeks ago… but I really don’t have the energy to relive any more of any of it. I don’t have the energy to even  _ think  _ about any of it right now… I’ve done all I can do for the day. ... _ Maybe _ i’ll continue on the rest of it later, but for now, I just want to  _ sleep _ . Sleep forever and forget everyone and everything… not care about anything… never be anxious or worried… but even in sleep, tranquility escapes me… I’ve been traveling to the void in my dreams, and it haunts me frequently. No matter what time of day I sleep, it always comes back. It doesn’t matter. It’s always there…

I just want to  _ rest _ .

 

—

 

**November 10th 9:19 A.M**

   ...Though the day the fight broke out between Citron and Jonquil was pretty awful… I would hardly call it the worst thing that happened these past few weeks. I had to break up the team, and I lost someone I once considered a friend — well, more like an acquaintance. I’ve been sick with guilt over it all since that day… but even then i’ve been able to let that all go… temporarily, at least... I could forget it for a moment and let myself relax. Most of the pain, physical and emotional, has left me. It comes and goes in waves, yes… but those waves are getting smaller and smaller. ...I’ve gotten over those things for the most part… but, something  _ else  _ still leaves me heartsick…

After that whole ordeal with Citron, Jonquil started visiting me about every other day, more or less. I imagine he’d prefer to see me everyday, but the two hour train ride here, to the hospital and home, is hectic and exhausting… I’m not sure why he was suddenly so attached… he hasn’t insisted spending  _ that  _ much time with me since we first got together — nor has he ever gone through such a hassle to do so. Maybe it’s because we can’t really talk over phone or text like we used to… I don’t know his reasoning, but It didn’t really matter all that much to me at the time. I was just happy to get to see him so often. I missed him a lot.

He distracted me from my bleak surroundings. With him around, I could focus on something other than my situation for once. I could  _ finally  _ start talking and socializing again with someone other than the hospital staff, or my parents. I was so engrossed with him I completely forgot my Mum couldn’t visit me last month and hadn’t come in… I was so upset over that, I cried for days, and yet... it no longer crossed my mind… He brought me a sense of normalcy in a place that still felt so foreign. He made me feel like I was myself again. I was no longer and outsider looking in — an impostor. I felt  _ normal  _ in my skin… He changed me. He made all my pain away. He took me back to how I used to be… and for a few days, I felt better than I ever had… Those few days I had with him were total bliss… but…

“all good things must come to an end” ...as they say.

... One day we were talking, and it was just a few minutes before he had to leave. We weren't chatting about anything in particular… just your typical things I suppose. School, home life and whatnot… it was a completely normal conversation, just like the many we had before that day. Then, somewhere along the line… it suddenly shifted… Jonquil got quiet for a moment. He just had a laughing fit over retelling some joke or something a classmate had said, and was trying to calm down. He was completely silent, then, out of nowhere… he says something I couldn’t quite make out… It was quiet, and unsure. It was nothing more than an unintelligible mumble. I  _ honestly  _ had no idea what he said, so I asked him… but he just brushed it off. Said sorry, that he wouldn’t ask again, and went home shortly after...

...I hadn’t an inkling of what he said. There’s no way I could have possibly  _ guessed _ … I should have brushed it off like he did. Ignored it. Just like anybody else would… but… I found myself obsessing over it. Thinking about it every other second after he had already gone. I thought about it the next day, and then the next day, and then every day after that. I couldn’t get it off my mind. Every waking moment was consumed by thoughts of what he  _ possibly  _ could have said. It ranged from simple, logical, yet not quite satisfying explanations I would throw away in seconds, to over the top exaggerations I knew couldn’t possibly be true, but kept me transfixed anyway…

It started to mess with my head to the point it affected our visits. His presence started to make me feel... uncomfortable. I was paranoid and anxious around him  _ all  _ the time. I couldn’t make eye contact or talk to him much at all… I was too busy rolling around what he might of said that day, in my head over and over. I couldn’t let it go… it was such a small and insignificant thing, but I just couldn’t let it go… it  _ consumed  _ me. I didn’t want it to… I didn’t understand why. I  _ just  _ started feeling better. I felt like myself again. I was  _ so  _ happy… but now i’ve reverted back, and now i’ve begun flinching at even the slightest of his movements… Which did not go unnoticed.

The first time it happened, he was just reaching out to grab my hand. Before he even touched me, I quickly snatched my hand away without a thought… It wasn’t conscious, just reflex… I don’t know why I did it… I genuinely didn’t. When he asked me repeatedly what was wrong, if I was okay, I said nothing. I had nothing  _ to  _ say. Though in hindsight, I wish maybe I  _ would  _ have said something... I’m pretty sure Jonquil thought I was scared of him… scared of him from the fight with Citron, despite me being fine a few days prior… If I connected the dots then, I would have said something. ... _ What _ , I don’t know… something to make him understand it wasn’t his fault, reassure him. Anything…  _ Anything  _ instead of staying silent, leaving him to wonder like I did.

After that day, things got a little... weird and uncomfortable between us… our next few visits were  _ incredibly  _ awkward. We didn’t talk to each other hardly at all. I wasn’t totally over that short phase where I was worried over what he might have said that day, and it was on my mind for a while, but I wasn’t nearly as bad as I had been. I could speak now and make it through our visits without any of those bothersome intrusive thoughts. ...Though, with the way he was acting around me, i’m not so sure that’s true at all… 

His movements and actions were different. He was purposefully and meticulously moving like he was weary of a scared wild animal. ...Maybe it would have been reassuring to an animal, but it made me uncomfortable... He started distancing himself from me. Physically. Everyday he’d get a little further and further from my bedside. He stopped before it got too noticeable, and truthfully it wasn’t that far... but he might as well have been in another room. He closed himself off completely from me. The few times we spoke it was like we hadn’t even spoken at all. Nothing come out of him and nothing went in. Honestly, it felt like talking to a statue. The way he was acting made me fear if he was really there at all… he wasn’t the person I knew...

…

The silence and awkwardness between us didn’t last forever... but a part of me wishes it did. I’d give anything to go back in time and keep myself in a time loop there forever… Well, if I had that power, I probably wouldn’t take myself there... I’d take myself far away. Far, far into the past. Back to a much happier time and a much happier place. I would be surrounded by all my friends and love ones, and forever embraced in a moment of pure bliss. A birthday, or maybe some other holiday… like Christmas or Easter... Some happy day I could live out for the rest of my life without knowing any better… 

If I could do that, I would have long ago, and I wouldn’t have to live through what inevitably came next…

…

One day, Jonquil asked me if I remembered that day, when he mumbled something I couldn’t make out, and refused to repeat himself. It made me a bit nervous… but the answer was “of course”. How could I forget? I obsessed over that tiny insignificant detail so many times it brought me to the point of tears… I didn’t tell him all of that, naturally, but I was honest. I told him yes, and asked him why he brought it up… but he didn’t say anything… He just looked real sad… and averted his eyes to the floor. He just sat in his chair, motionless. He stared at the floor forever. Contemplating. I didn’t know what was running through his mind. I couldn’t have possibly guessed… 

Well, looking back...it’s kind of obvious. Well, it was  _ incredibly obvious _ . I already  _ knew  _ what he was going to say. After all, I heard him say it before. I may have thought I didn’t… or maybe I just refused to acknowledge it… My brain took it in but didn’t fully register it… I knew  _ what  _ he said… but I didn’t  _ know… _

Well, now I  _ do _ . I put all the puzzle pieces together mere seconds after he asked me.

“Do… do you think it’s a good idea for us to be together…?”

It took me a moment… but I knew what he meant. The past few days… months even, more than that, now that I really think about it… things weren’t really working out. Things became awkward between us. We couldn’t hold conversations anymore. In the short time I had been in this hospital, we changed—... _ I _ changed. Things were completely different now, and there was no way to get it all back... back to the way it was. Back to normal. No matter how much we wanted it. It was impossible…

My heart pounded heavy and panic and fear took their hold on me. I began to sweat and shake. My eyes watered to the point I couldn’t see… but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t make the tears come. I wanted to speak up. Open my mouth and say  _ something… anything…  _  but no words came out. My mouth dried up and the words died in my throat. I was absolutely speechless. It was the cowardice. It was the fear. It was many things… but, it all came down to  _ one  _ thing that overruled them all… I just didn’t know  _ what  _ to say... How could I possibly prevent what was to come next? ...I couldn’t. It was inevitable. No matter what words I  _ possibly  _ could have formed would keep what was coming next from happening. ...Looking back, I think my inability to speak was just someone's’ way of telling me it was my time to listen...

Taken by my silence, Jonquil began to speak. He clarified a few things. He still very much loved me, still cared deeply for me, loved spending time with me… but he had been thinking about us the past couple weeks. Thinking about things he had been noticing with me, and with him, too. He’s always been very insecure. He knows that a lot of it is in his head but... he said he felt like he was putting a lot of stress on me. Not  _ him  _ per say, — though, he through a lot about that at first — but our relationship  _ itself _ . ...He mentioned my past freak outs, and back when I slapped him… he told me he asked the nurses about it afterwards, and they told him i’ve only done that during our visits… and I guess he assumed from there… He thought our relationship was putting a lot of stress on me. Making me feel pressured. That it made me so anxious and wired to the point I lashed out, unable to vent my frustration any other way.

…

I had to stop and think for a moment. Give myself a second to process all of what he was saying… was he right? Was that it? The reason all of this… the blackouts, the hallucinations and dreams, the stress and insomnia… was all just because… I was feeling stressed about our  _ relationship _ ? …No, it couldn’t be, could it? It doesn’t make sense. I haven’t even thought about us since i’ve been here… I mean, I haven’t  _ worried  _ about it at the very least… Honestly, it hasn’t crossed my mind much at all. I’ve been too distracted by everything else. The fear of the void creeping up on me again was what consumed my thoughts in between busy days. I honestly didn’t even have  _ time  _ to think about us. That couldn’t have been it—at least I don’t think… I didn’t, I  _ still  _ don’t know. I needed time to think, time to understand, but my mind was spinning from all the adrenaline, and it was all moving  _ so  _ fast…

I still hadn’t spoken by this point, but Jonquil was continuing the conversation on his own. He told me he thought it would be best if we “took a break”. At least until I got out of the hospital... He told me I didn’t need to say anything. It wouldn’t matter if I did. Nothing I could really say would change his mind. I needed to focus on getting out of the hospital, and putting extra stress on me wasn’t going to help… Even if it wasn’t that. If it wasn’t  _ us  _ putting such strain on me, he wasn’t going to take the risk… He said he didn’t mean to sound harsh... but...

All of it left me feeling breathless and defeated… There was nothing I could do. Jonquil was breaking up with me and I could do nothing to change his mind. I felt powerless. I didn’t want it to end — at least not like this… but what could I do? Put up a senseless fight I knew would only be futile? I was already holding so much in, I couldn’t deal with this on top of it all. That would only cause me more pain. I couldn’t take it any longer. I needed to get out of there before I broke down… blacked out… maybe even worse. I can’t explain it… I just…  _ needed  _ to be alone…

…

So, I agreed with him...  _ Lied  _ to him. Lied to his face. Confirmed everything he said. Brought reality to his worst fear and sent him away without any closure… All to get him out of there as quickly as possible… And it worked. He left without another word… The second he left I was overcome with sadness and grief. I was surprised I didn’t start crying immediately, or at  _ all _ . I just didn’t  _ care _ . I cared so much over the past… forever… I didn’t have the  _ energy _ . I was beyond upset… I was so sad… but I couldn’t even muster a  _ single  _ tear. I felt broken. Hollow and empty. I felt so many emotions yet couldn’t express a single one. It didn’t feel  _ right _ . It made me feel  _ worse… _

…

...

… I haven’t seen him since that day. I doubt i’ll ever see hi, again… I don’t blame him. He might be hurting too… and... I don’t want to see him anyway. Honestly I don’t want to see  _ anybody _ . It’s too stressful. I can’t stand the presence of others right now... 

 

—

 

**November 18th 3:30 P.M**

   Angelo visited me today. He actually has been for a while. He’s come nearly everyday since Jonquil and I ...you know. ...I guess you could say he’s been my shoulder to cry on. He can’t provide much comfort in terms of words, but he’s perfect to vent to, and his presence is more than enough to comfort me on its own. He’s such a great listener. He makes for great company in that aspect… not having to force conversation, or feel awkward at a lack of response when he never responds at all… He’s been great to have around the past week or so. He was a real lifesaver honestly... but I was feeling… a bit off today, and I had to send him home early today. 

Nothing happened… there’s no bad blood or awkward dilemma between us, and we didn’t get in a fight or argument… I just, suddenly found myself unable to speak to him… I lost my ability to speak at  _ all _ . I didn’t distrust him. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to him… I  _ physically  _ couldn’t. I would open my mouth, but no words would come out. My mouth would dry up and they’d get caught in my throat. I couldn’t even make a squeak. No matter how hard I tried nothing came out. I got more and more frustrated, to the point I would almost cry out of exasperation. In fact, I got so frustrated today, after I finally managed to regain my words, I told him to go home early, and I convinced him he didn’t need to come back...

I.. I don’t know why. I’ve pushed him and everyone away from me. I don’t know why i’ve pushed them all away. It’s true, really… I don’t understand… One second i’m unable to speak at all, and the next i’m saying the exact opposite of what’s on my mind…

“Go”

_ Don’t go _

“I’m fine”

_ I’m not fine _

“Everything will be okay”   
  
_ No it won’t _

I don’t understand it. I don’t understand any of it. I feel like I never have. Why do I do these things? I’ve changed so much since being here I don’t feel like myself ANYMORE… I’m acting in ways the old me never would... Thinking things that would never cross her mind… Sometimes I look back in the earlier entries of this journal, and i’m repulsed at who I see. I think; That’s not me, I didn’t write these! It was a stranger… I don’t even remember making them… but it’s my handwriting...

...I really don’t feel like myself anymore… I’ve lost interest in things I once loved. Music, TV, writing. It does nothing for me. I turn on my favorite song… but all that comes out is monotone blandness. What once made me happy even in the darkest times now only reminds me of them. Hauntingly... The music that I so loved for its vibrant brilliant colors has gone mute and gray. I tune into my favorite show… but all I see is a static TV. Something I once loved for its soothing and comforting noise now only hurts my ears.  What once made me laugh only makes me cry as I am forbidden to enjoy it… Taken away from me in an instant without any prior warning… I open my journal. Touch my pen to paper and write along the lines. What I read back is nothing more than jumbled chicken scratch. Useless scribbles. The way I hold my pen feels so foreign. What once brought me calm and familiarity now only gives me frustration and a  _ strange  _ feeling.

I’ve become a stranger to myself. Nothing I once loved brings me happiness. Nothing distracts me from reality anymore. Doesn’t comfort me and keep me sane. Doesn’t keep the creeping void in my peripheral vision away.  ...It comes nearly everyday now, and sucks me in faster than I can react. Each time feels longer and longer, and i’m afraid one day i’ll be stuck in there  _ forever _ . I’ll fall asleep and be trapped in a dream. I won't even be allowed to die, all I can do is suffer for all of  _ eternity _ . 

Every minute of life is  _ terrifying _ . I can’t  _ escape  _ it.

I’m so afraid. I’m so alone.

 

—

 

**November 20th 7:57 A.M**

   I’m afraid. I’m so,  _ so  _ afraid. I’m afraid i’ll never see them again. Not my Parents, Jonquil, Angelo, Citron — anybody. I’ll be stuck here in this hell hole forever. Suffering. All alone… I know Mum and Dad say they’ll come to see me as often as they can… but they missed last months visit… and didn’t even call. ...What if they’re tired of me? Tired of the girl stuck in a hospital with no sign of getting better. Tired of the girl sucking away all their money in hospital bills, leaving them to suffer the consequences... What if they’ve gotten sick of me? Decided to cut their losses and leave me far in their past… Their old daughter who got in to trouble and got herself hurt, and nearly killed… They’ll never want to see my face again. Not even on the sidewalk passing by when I inevitably find myself homeless and on the street... They’ll turn their heads in discuss, vowing never to so much as  _ speak  _ to me again... 

….And it’s all my fault. I’m pushing everyone away, telling them to leave and expecting them to protest,  _ wanting  _ them to — but they never do. They always listen, think I mean what I say. They think i’m right in the head… What’s wrong with me? What  _ happened  _ to me? What’s  _ happening  _ to me? What’s  _ going  _ to  _ happen  _ to me? I don’t know. I’m afraid. I’m so so afraid. Afraid of everything

 

—

 

**November 22nd 5:43 P.M**

   I hate this this place. I really hate this place. I hate being stuck here. I hate having no place to go but this tiny room. Everyday is unbearably lonely. The only faces I ever cared to see no longer come by, and the excitement that filled me during those visits make all others insignificant in comparison. I no longer see the nurses and doctors as people, but shadowy figures wandering about the room, coming and going as they please. I know there are real beings behind the figures... but impossible to see or even reach out to, they have become no more than ghost to me. Their presence makes this place all the more lonely…

I hate them. I hate them all so much. Always interrogating me, second guessing me. What right do they have to treat me so horribly? What did I ever do wrong? What did I do to deserve to be trapped in this place with such horrible people. I can’t stand it here. The longer I stay the more horrible I feel. I feel like i’m no longer the former person I call  _ myself _ , but an impostor that has taken that place. I look in the mirror and I’m an outsider looking in. No longer in my own body, i’m forced to watch as someone else control my actions and emotions, and i’m more than hopeless to stop it. Why am I so angry? Why am I so sad? I want to know the reason, but so far i’m miserable without reason. Am I allowed to feel this way? Do my feelings even matter?  I feel like I don’t know anymore. I feel like I don’t know anything.

I’m so confused about everything. I just want to put off everything so I can figure all this out — understand why i’ve changed… I want to be normal again. I want to get out of here. I have to get out of here. I  _ want  _ to. But i’m  _ trapped _ .

 

—

 

**November 27th 9:09 A.M**

   It’s all my fault.

It’s all my fault, isn’t it?

Of course it is. It all is... Everything i’ve suffered from since the accident has all been a result of my own doing. My pain, fear, loneliness, all of it. It’s all been because of  _ me _ . I’m lonely because i’ve pushed and kept everyone away, afraid they’ll see how much i’ve changed and what i’ve really become. I’m in pain because i’m always in this uncomfortable bed and forced to do physical therapy. In pain since the accident. I’m always in bed and in therapy because i’m in this horrible hospital. I’m in the hospital because i’m injured… and i’m injured because... i’m a  _ horrible  _ person... A  _ brute _ . A  _ bully _ . Tormented everyone and anyone even slightly different than me, treated them like garbage… And I expected to get away with it…

Well, I got my comeuppance… And I deserved it. All of it. Every second of it. The guilt I feel is something that will stick with me until I die. It’ll never go away. I couldn’t even  _ forget  _ it if I  _ wanted  _ to. The voices in my head will never shut up about it... I try to forget but they wont let me. Wont let me forget about the guilt, or forget about that day. That  _ day _ . I run away from the memory, and hoped to never look back... Now it’s caught up to me, and isn’t happy at my escape attempt. It haunts me everyday, and I am filled with so much  _ regret _ . 

I regret it all. I regret my past. I regret every horrible thing that i’ve ever said to another person. I regret joining turf wars. I regret picking up my very first gun. I regret making the team... I regret that day. I regret ever leaving the house. I regret angering her, causing her so much pain and heart ache for so many years. I regret fighting back. 

...Most of all, I regret  **_surviving_ ** ...

...

...But even then, all of this regret, guilt, pain and suffering  _ isn’t  _ enough to make up for everything that I have done…. The only justice that will reign supreme is what drags me away in the middle of the night. I’m afraid. I can’t take this. I want to fall asleep and never wake up… Just stop. Stop forever.

It’s all my fault.

It’s all my fault.

I  _ shouldn't  _ have survived.

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

...   
…and I  _ won’t  _ this time…

—


	7. April 3rd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a quick warning; Please pay attention to the warning tags above before reading, this entire chapter is the reason they're there. There are direct mentions of suicide, and suicidal thoughts (nothing gruesome or descriptive, just mentioned). Additionally, there will be mentions of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) ASD (Acute Stress Disorder) and depression. 
> 
> Read at your own discretion.

**April 3rd 2:30 P.M**

   Hi there! I’m Clementine, Clementine Lanark — but feel free to just call me ‘Clem’ — and welcome to my journal!

I’m about your average 17 year old high school girl. I love listening to/creating music, reading, writing and hanging out with my friends. My favorite colors are orange, yellow, and red, and all my favorite food likely includes anything and everything that consist any of those three colors — except carrots, those are gross. I also enjoy skateboarding and rollerblading in my spare time, and I’ve gotten  _ pretty good  _ at it since I first started last December (my board was a Christmas present from me Mum).

Now, you  _ may  _ be wondering  _ why  _ i’m re-introducing myself when you already know me, and that’s simple. Take a look back at some of the entries I first wrote — or maybe even the most recent ones (though, maybe not…). If you look hard enough, you may notice something. Maybe little details here and there that don’t seem quite right… It’s alright if you can’t, I don’t  _ actually  _ think it’s quite that obvious... but, in any case, whether you can tell or not, i’ll just go ahead and just spell it out for you. 

_ he last time I wrote you was over two whole years ago _ .

That’s right, it’s currently 2506, and i’ve  _ finally  _ gotten out of that hospital — well I  _ have  _ been for about over two years now, buuut not the point. 

A lot has happened since i’ve gotten out. Maybe you think it’s silly, but I feel like I  _ need  _ to re-introduce myself. I feel like — I  _ have  _ — changed  _ a lot _ since I wrote you last, and it’s important for me to acknowledge that, as well as others. I don’t want any impressions of my past self that may have manifested to transfer over to the  _ current me _ . I worked  _ long  _ and  _ hard  _ to get out of that place. Not just the hospital itself, but where I was mentally as well… I fought my way out of it. I came out with wounds and battle scars, but I made it out… I had help of course, my friends and family and my therapist… but a lot of it relied on me, and  _ I did it _ . I don’t want people to look at who I used to be, a depressed, afraid, confused girl, and see me the same way  _ now _ . I want people to look at me and see what i’ve  _ become _ . Look at all i’ve  _ accomplished  _ and see how much i’ve  _ thrived _ . I want them to see that I didn’t let myself be trapped,  _ and broke free _ .

…

Okay, and with that over dramatic and probably somewhat unnecessary speech out of the way… I think some things deserve an explanation. Let’s start with the most obvious...

My very last entry… boy that’s a… I don’t even know how to describe it... I’m sure it must have been real concerning and frightening to read, that’s for sure. If I didn’t know for a _fact_ I was the author, I would probably be desperately searching for the one who wrote it, and checking up on them, making sure they were okay. I mean, yeah, I guess it was a little vague, I suppose… but c’mon… it doesn’t take a genius to decipher the possible implication there.  ...And yes… if you’re wondering, I _was_ considering doing what you _probably_ expected... _Obviously,_ since you’re reading this, i’m still here, and I didn’t do it… but I know how scary the thought of that is, even for someone on the outside. I **_promise_** you i’ve gotten help and worked through it. _I’ve gotten better._

...It was actually soon after that exact entry that I reached out and got the help I needed. I never really got the chance to write about it (I abandoned this journal quickly after that entry, not sure why), but I was having some…  _ disturbing  _ thoughts throughout my stay at the hospital.

It started off with small things. Like, “what would happen if I wasn’t here” or “what if I just vanished one day”... nothing too concerning for me at the time, just hypothetical theories of what everyone's life would be like if I just suddenly wasn’t there… I never actually thought about my disappearance as my own death, just… suddenly not existing anymore.  ...However, like they inevitably would, these thoughts eventually escalated… It quickly moved to actively wishing I had  _ never  _ been born, all the way up to thinking up plans of taking my own life… November is probably when those thoughts started plaguing me…

I’ll be honest with you... I thought about it a lot. I came up with many different plans. I planned ways I thought would be painless and easy, and ways I knew would do the job, but didn’t _care_ if it hurt or not.  I had already suffered through so much pain while in the hospital, I stopped caring about it months ago. 

My plans ranged from drowning myself in the toilet or sink (comical, I know… but it was a serious thought), sneaking medicine and overdosing, all the way to the old fashioned jumping off the roof. ...That last one was probably what I thought about most. ...I guess maybe because it was the most accessible and plausible. I was usually always alone in my room, nurses rarely ever came by and I had no roommate. There was a nice big window I could climb out of, right by my bedside. It was never locked either… If I were to do it, that would be the best way.

Though… I never jumped the gun. I never went through with it. I’m sure most people who have been through this stuff would say something, like the thought of their loved ones kept them grounded. Friends family, maybe even their pet… but I don’t think I cared about any of that. I had already convinced myself my friends didn’t like me anymore and my parents didn’t love me. I couldn’t think of anybody to keep me grounded, keep me sane. In those moments where I complicated the end, I was completely alone. 

What kept  _ me  _ from doing it was the thought of other people seeing it. I wasn’t worried about being stopped halfway through… I just didn’t want anyone to have to witness it if they didn’t have to. I mean, where I would have jumped was the  _ back  _ of the hospital, but my window didn’t directly lead out to open air. The hospitals second story roof stretched all the way from my window to about 30 feet towards the sun set. If I wanted to jump, I would have to run to the edge of that roof, where anyone in the surrounding rooms could see me, and watch in horror.

I’ve heard stories of people taking their lives in grizzly ways. They all usually involve unnecessary witnesses, and unnecessary killers. People jump in front of trains, cars, off of bridges, exposing people to unnecessary horrors… I don’t mean to sound like i’m condemning all those lost in those ways… I understand what goes through a persons head, and what a sick brain could push people to do. They probably never even considered how the people who would discover them — not out of selfishness or cruelty, but because they weren’t mentally capable at the time.

...I don’t know if anyone else has ever considered the people that could be affected by their death before ever doing it, or if it prevented them... but for me, I couldn’t stand the thought. The thought of pulling people who had nothing to do with me into something horrible like that terrified me… I thought about ways I could get away with it and keep anyone from seeing it, like doing it late at night when everyone was asleep... but as a fellow insomniac, I knew it was still too much of a risk. I didn’t want to make anyone else suffer. It kept me from ever going through with it.

I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to go into so much detail about all of that, I know that can be really uncomfortable. I was just kind of sucked into my own monologue there huh? I guess i’m just kind of shocked that I  _ genuinely  _ used to think these things… They constantly ran through my head, but didn’t  _ scare _ or  _ worry  _ me. I never thought anything was wrong. Well, I mean  _ I sure didn’t think that they were normal _ , but they didn’t really concern me like they probably should have. I kept it all to myself for all those months. It never made me worried about my own safety — well, not until I almost tried it...

Well, I didn’t  _ actually  _ almost try it… like I said, I was too worried about other people seeing me… but there was night day, a few days after that last entry in fact… 

It was really hot that night. The heating system in the hospital had broken or something and started malfunctioning, and everyone was burning up, including myself. It quickly got to the point where I couldn’t take heat anymore. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even think straight. There was no air conditioning and I was ready to just straight up lay on the cold, hard floor if I had to. When I finally hit that melting point, I opened the big window by my bedside, desperate for relief. When I felt the cool air hit my face, I couldn’t control myself, it felt  _ so  _ good. It had been such a long time since I had been outside, I missed it so much… So I stepped up onto the window seal, and let the breeze hit my entire body. I was only up there to feel the wind and get a small sense of freedom, honestly. I just wanted all the sweat to dry, and have at least a few seconds where I wasn’t  _ burning  _ alive… I looked up at the moon and admired it’s beauty. It was the first time I had seen in without the barrier of glass… I was entranced by her.

But...  suddenly, out of nowhere, a little voice in the back of my head starts speaking to me... Telling me “now would be the perfect time, and perfect opportunity. I was already there now, and if I could sprint fast enough, I could make it before anyone saw.” ...That was the first time I ever actually thought of actively doing it,  _ seriously  _ considering it — and it  _ scared  _ me. ...Luckily, I had enough sense still in me to back down from the window immediately and slam it shut, locking it behind me. It took all my energy, but I somehow managed…

The second a nurse came into my room later that morning, I demanded they call my mum and insist she come as soon as she could. Lucky for me, she came by in less than an hour. I told her about everything. Everything I had been hiding from her, from the doctors, from everybody. Told her how horrible I felt. Told her about the hallucinations and flashbacks… all of it. Some time later I was transported to a different hospital, and got into much needed therapy. And amazingly, when my mental health improved, my physical did as well.

From all of what i’ve described, I don’t think you’ll be surprised I was diagnosed with depression — but that’s not all. As it turns out, not all that much of a surprise either, really, I was also told I suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. More commonly known as PTSD. I also most likely started out with ASD (acute stress disorder) before it later developed into full blow stress disorder. It’s a very dangerous combination of mental illness to have... and was hard to work through.

First of all, it took me a while to  _ accept  _ I was sick. I didn’t want to admit I had a problem. I stubbornly wanted to keep thinking I was fine even when I  _ obviously wasn’t _ … Though, that didn’t last very long. With depression I eventually did come to terms with. Learning about it, recognizing symptoms and understanding how common of an illness it was, I accepted it… though if a bit begrudgingly at first.

However… understanding the former was a lot more difficult for me. I already had a basic understanding of what it was, but that basic understanding came with many misconceptions. A lot of misconceptions many people often have. I thought PTSD was just something people like veterans and army men got. Something that only came from suffering the harsh realities of war and combat. I didn’t understand it could develop from any type of past trauma. ...I guess I felt like my situation didn’t deserve to be regarded as something so horrible. That because of my situation, I didn’t qualify. I didn’t have to suffer through what these people have, war and violence, so  _ I _ don’t count.  _ I _ don’t matter… That was probably the hardest to come to terms with. That I mattered, my suffering mattered. That just because someone has it worse than you, it doesn’t mean  _ you aren’t  _ suffering. Someone  _ else's  _ trauma doesn’t invalidate your own — and you shouldn’t let it.

Once I let go of that dangerous mindset, I understood myself and my condition a little better. PTSD can arise from any traumatic experience. Some people get it from different forms of child abuse they could have suffered from growing up. Some have it from being assaulted, or witnessing a type of assault, even being threatened with a weapon can cause some minor cases. Of course, many people get it from combat exposure, that probably being the most common out of all traumatic events. Though as in  _ my  _ case, it was the result of  _ trauma from an accident. _

I don’t think I ever wrote about it while I was in the hospital... Well, other than maybe one vague explanation, but I never went into full detail. Partially because I had blocked out a lot of what happened, and I couldn’t bare to remember the few details I managed to hold onto. ...Now that I finally have the chance, I will tell it to you how I remember it. However, you should know it might not be 100% accurate. The many times i’ve recalled the story with my therapist, she tells me some aspects change each time. Even though i’ve mostly recovered from the trauma and have moved on from it, my brain still refuses to accurately replicate the incident. In all honestly it’s probably for the best anyway... Many victims block out key aspects of their traumatic experiences in order to protect themselves, and i’m sure it’s a similar case with me. ...Additionally, i’m getting real  _ tired  _ of telling the same story over and over. I had to go through it with my therapist a bunch of times a few months back, and i’m honestly sick of repeating myself.

Okay, so… here it goes.

About… three(?) years ago in July, my old team and I were competing in the annual turf war league. We got into the semi finals, and we were facing against Jonquil and mine’s old rivals: two girls named Marian and Belladonna, who had their very own team as well (they were co-captains just like us). We all went back to elementary school… and unfortunately, it  _ isn’t  _ because we were good friends…

Jonquil and I were pretty mean kids growing up. We often teased Marian and Belladonna, and were relentless for children. All the way up until middle school, when the two transferred somewhere else, we teased them damned near everyday. I’m not surprised they left that school. We probably would have never seen them again after that — if they hadn't joined turf war, just like us.

They had maybe two solid years where they were free from us. We were quick to start teasing them and poking fun at them when we eventually ran into each other again. Of course,when we beat them nearly every time we matched up against each other, I would take my chance  to rub it in. It was your typical trash talk. Anything and everything thrown out just for the sake of making the other person feel bad. Though... I took it too far sometimes, and even one of my own teammates would call me out on it... but even so, I never relented. It probably made them all miserable. I know it particularly bothered Belladonna... it always made her  _ visibly  _ angry. Every time I teased her and her team, she only got more and more upset. It wasn’t too long before she finally surpassed her limit to hold it all back. It escalated from yelling and occasionally punching and kicking a wall… to instead doing all the same to  _ me _ .

…

We had beat their team pretty badly in the semi finals... and Jonquil and I were  _ not  _ very very humble  _ or  _ gracious winners. The instant they walked out of the lobby, we,  _ of course _ , berated them with insults and trash talk. They were all already devastated and fuming, and we were only adding fuel to the fire. ...I guess ended up saying something particularly nasty, and it was enough to send Belladonna over the edge. In an instant, she attacked me. Straight up tackled me. Started berating me with punches. She got a pretty solid first hit one my face, but I managed to block the rest by covering my arms over my face… and damn that hurt like hell.

I don’t remember too much of what happened in this next part… just the hard punches and the sound of all our panicked friends in the background... but I think I recall hearing the sound of a splat bomb falling to the ground. Belladonna and I both froze, and looked over, and saw the bomb next to us on the ground. Before we could even react, it went off… and I blacked out form there. I think I just went unconscious from the shock, but I most likely blocked the explosion from memory. Either way, next thing I remember, i’m waking up in the hospital with the most intense burning sensation all over my back… and the hospital is where I remained for the next year… and you know the rest from there.

As for what happened to Belladonna… I think it’s important to talk about her, too… After all, there’s always more to the story than what one person can retell.

Like I said, _ I _ don’t remember anything from just before the explosion onward — but I did convince  _ Jonquil  _ to spill some of what he could recall. ...Apparently, Belladonna and I were blasted a few feet from the explosion. Since it was her bomb, she wasn’t harmed by it physically… but I think she may have been scarred… I ended up landing in her lap, and she got a front row seat to all the blood and gore… she had ink all over her hands, legs… it was everywhere. I can only imagine how  _ horrifying  _ that was to see. How scared she must have been, probably  _ terrified  _ that she did or almost killed someone… and  _ that’s  _ coming from that very same  _ someone _ ...

...

I know many people, including my friends, still blame her for all of it… but I can’t bring myself to do the same. It would have been  _ so  _ easy to. It would have been  _ so  _ easy to point blame at someone for what happened. Build up anger and convince yourself you were a victim of sabotage, rather than of happenstance. …But I never could. It wasn’t her fault. It was an accident. I always believed that. Even back when I thought I  _ deserved  _ what happened to me, convinced I got what was coming to me, I  _ never  _ attributed Belladonna as the one who served me my comeuppance… I always saw it as the universe taking a sting at me. There’s no way she could have know the attack would have lead to that — hell, we don’t know for sure if it would or wouldn’t of happened anyway. Maybe that bomb would have still fallen off and blown my leg off instead. Maybe blown Angelo’s arm off! Accidents happened, and there’s  _ no  _ way to predict them.

With all that said, however… I did hold a bit of a grudge against her for a while. Not at all related to the accident, but the attack that came before it… Funnily enough, it wasn’t even  _ because  _ she hurt me, but because she  _ surprised  _ me. I was  _ really  _ stubborn and full of myself back then. While my body may have been hurt and bruised from the fight, my pride was definitely in worse condition. I felt like it wasn’t a fair battle, and if I had  _ known  _ she was going to attack me, I could have taken her… somehow. ...I got over it though, and eventually forgave her for  _ cheating _ , and moved on with my life _ … _

...And I hope she found a way to move on, too. I hope she no longer blames herself — if she ever did — and continues on with her life without  _ too  _ many regrets. I know how it felt to wallow in faux guilt. Convince you’re a horrible person, and deserve every bad thing that ever happens to you… it’s awful. And, despite what people may think she deserves or “has coming”... no ones deserves to go through what I had to. I wish that on no one. Not even my worst enemy… Besides, that event was traumatic for everyone who was unfortunate enough to witness it. Everyone probably had their own things to work through already. I doubt anyone was okay after that, but I hope they’re better now…

Well… that was a real long and winded explanation, wasn’t it (also pretty depressing, sheesh)? Aw, jeez... I didn’t mean to get this off topic. I was supposed to write about how happy I was now, and things I love about my life! My therapist suggested it… I’m supposed to “turn it in” to her next session, but with some of the stuff written down here, i’m kind of reluctant… I mean, she’s  _ not  _ going to look and see if i’ve  _ really  _ written an entry like I claimed… but I don’t want here to see all the earlier pages of entries before this one, and ask questions… Damn, looks like i’m going to have to scrap this. That’s what I get for trying to recycle this journal…

Ah, what the hell, i’ve made it this far, I might as well finish what I started. I’ll tell my therapist I couldn’t afford to buy a diary, or that I forgot it at home that day or something… Eh, i’ll probably just go ahead and tell her the truth. It’s not like she’ll get mad at me.

Alright! So, since the start of my therapy and full physical recovery, my life has been pretty great. First of all, Jonquil and I got back together...! I mean… we didn’t  _ stay  _ together, things didn’t really work out, but our second break up ended on much better terms. It was like a do over for the first one… it was such a relief to get to do that over again and have it done right. I can’t tell you how much easier it was to go our separate ways after that. Now there’s nothing complicated between us, and we’ve actually remained pretty decent friends — ehh for the most part. It’s nothing bad… it’s just… we both have our own turf war teams, sooo we’re  _ basically  _ rivals now.

Yup! That’s right, I got back into turf war! It took about a year of therapy to get over my anxiety and fears, and truthfully I still have  _ some  _ even now, but it’s manageable enough I can send myself back into the ring and play again! I truly forgot how much I loved the sport and how happy it made me... And i’ve bounced back in a way I couldn’t have possibly imagined. I’m now the successful captain of the new team Vitamin Ink, consisting of myself, the returning Angelo who was kind enough to join me again, and two newcomers. A young and energetic girl about two years younger than me named Tanrine, and a shy and recluse boy, Taloupe — and i’m even S rank now, can you believe that?

Thanks to these guys, I’ve even forgot a lot of those bad times I spent in the hospital. They ran through my mind often back when I first started therapy, and it was all I could think about. Now, If I ever think back to the past, I only think of happy times with them. They make me all so glad to be alive — to be glad i’m still here… and on the  _ rare  _ occasions when I do think back to my time in that place, I can’t help but look back at myself and wish I would have gotten help sooner… Instead of sitting in there suffering, I could have been getting help, and gotten to my bright future a lot sooner than I did.

...I guess what i’m trying to say is… to anyone who struggles with feeling helpless or like something’s wrong with you, but you don’t want to admit it…  **do it anyway.** Get help. Ask for support. It’s  _ not  _ a sign of weakness, and it isn’t as much of an inconvenience like you think. That’s just whatever you’re suffering from telling you lies so it can keep tormenting you. You may think you can fight it alone… but you can’t. No matter who it is, how tough they are, in the end,  _ no one _ can fight it alone. And no one should have to. No one should have to  _ suffer  _ alone.

There will always be someone there to help you and to help yourself. Find that person. It could be anybody. A family member, a friend, even a  _ kind  _ stranger will be there for you. You may not believe it, but there will always be someone there for you.  _ All you have to do is reach out to them. _

**-End-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed reading Chronic Recollection! I know this final chapter was much shorter than the last two, but I didn't have too much to put into this final chapter, and thought short and sweet was the best way to go. It was a fun ride, but I have plenty of other ideas I need to work on, so it's nice that it's finally over.
> 
> If you have any questions of feed back, send me an ask on tumblr! https://bup-oh.tumblr.com/ (please note my URL will be changing soon)


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